


Hermes' Follies

by felinefelicitations



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherhood, Family, Fatherhood, Feel-good, Fix-It, Fluff with feelings, Generational Trauma, God Shenanigans, Growing Up, Hades learns how to be a good dad, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Nyx Shenanigans, One Night Stands, Trickster Gods, the canon diverged when nyx decided 2 have a couple one night stands w hermes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinefelicitations/pseuds/felinefelicitations
Summary: “Hermes,” Hades interrupts, taking his seat between Hermes and Nyx. He considers the blanket before them, the assorted odds and ends—a child’s sword, a length of ivy brought here who knows how, a small pile of emeralds, a laurel crown not so unlike Hades own that raises a number of questions, a vial of—“Is that blood?” Hades asks.“No idea,” Hermes says brightly. “Hypnos picked everything out.”—blood, why did he allow Hypnos to arrange this?
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hades Video Game), Hermes & Hades (Hades Video Game), Hermes & Hypnos (Hades Video Game), Hermes & Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Hermes/Nyx (Hades Video Game), Hypnos & Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Hypnos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Nyx/Persephone (Hades Video Game), Thanatos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 153
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have been thinking about how thanatos & hypnos are the only chthonic gods with feather wing motifs like a certain trickster god who's codex entry reads "is the god of more than he appears" and also u know, is a god of death, deliverer of dreams, merchant, etc etc etc. u know that pansexual trickster god who was strongly identified as chthonic god himself??????
> 
> follies like haha foolish acts but also follies like the Ziegfeld follies cause i'm a nerd and gosh don't u think Hermes would love revues?
> 
> i hope you enjoy this very soft and gentle alternate universe fix it fic.

Hermes has not, generally, ever, in his entire life, _not_ enjoyed the night.

He likes the stars, likes the depth, likes just how much absolute _nonsense_ he can get away with in the dark that he really can’t when Apollo is awake. His best work, if he says so himself, is in the dark, that ancient and beautifully charming period when all of time goes thin and it is so trivially easy to slip _through_ time. If he’s late—which, as a reminder, he never is—night is the best time to skip back a bit and patch that little accounting error right up.

Hermes would not say that he _loves_ the night; or rather, he’d not say he loves _Nyx_ , not anymore than he loves every goddess he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting and also _knowing_ , which might, actually, be what has brought him to this moment.

Loving goddesses has, _in general_ , always gotten him in trouble, but he's also never regretted it.

“I. Huh,” he says. “Mine?”

“If you wish,” Nyx says.

Not that this is _trouble_ , per say.

One of the babies, both with a shock of silver hair a bit more starlight than Hermes’ own sunbeam shadows—different kind of light, Nyx’s kind of light, but all the same—one of the babies opens their eyes, Nyx’s kind of gold, and squints at him. The one with the thick curls that Hermes _would_ have if he didn’t keep his hair so short because he does _not_ particularly enjoy needing to handle that mess and life is very much a thing he’d rather spend enjoying.

“What do you mean if I wish?” Hermes asks.

(It was a one, okay, it was several nights, just fun, exactly the sort of way Hermes likes to spend a night. He didn’t _expect_ —

“Not all fathers wish nor should be involved. I have had children without them before,” Nyx says, cold the way only the night can truly be.

It is part of why Hermes likes her so much, if he’s honest. He can appreciate that sort of practicality. Very professional.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he says, sincere, because the fact she’s giving the choice at all _is_ a vote of confidence. “They got names yet?”

“No,” Nyx says. “Not yet.”

The curly headed one yawns, blinks at him sleepily. They have little wings on their head, tiny and ugly and feathers still coming in, but Hermes knows that’ll be fixed up in no time at all with a little more age.

“Did I stay before?” Hermes asks. “I mean, if I can ask that.”

They’re cute, in that very ugly fat baby sort of way. He’s never—at least not that he _knows_ , and isn’t that what counts, at the end of the day?—been a father before. It might be fun to try, and it’s not every day that he’s given the chance.

“Sometimes you do, and sometimes you do not,” Nyx says, past priestess of more worlds and possibilities than Hermes will ever know. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he asked—the pasts of his other possibilities really never have swayed the present him in _this_ possibility. “Sometimes they are in truth only mine, and you no relation at all.”

“Huh,” he says, then holds out his hands and scoops up the curly haired twin from her arms.

He likes kids. They’re fun.

And they look like him, just a little.

“Sure,” Hermes says, booping the baby on the nose. They go cross-eyed with their silly baby eyes that still can’t quite focus properly, but then they laugh, this bright giggle and yes, okay, that’s definitely his kid, and there’s a feeling not unlike the sun warming his shoulders that has just opened up in his chest. “I mean, I assume you’re gonna be looking after them mostly, but sure, it sounds fun. If you’re asking.”

Nyx smiles, that slight little sliver of a dark moon.

“Good,” she says.

“No promises I’ll be any better at it than anyone else I know,” he adds, quickly, but he supposes with the bar low enough it might be _under_ Tartarus, Nyx likely already knows that.

Her smile gets just a touch bigger.

“I would not ask,” she says, “if I expected you to be worse.”

**

Hermes visits often. It is nice to have a father involved, and one so fascinated by children—as with all the consequences he decides to face, Hermes throws himself fully into the process to wring as much joy from it as he can.

It is why Nyx gave him a choice.

Hermes takes them with, on occasion—not the surface, Nyx has been quite clear that should wait until they are both older, but to see their half-brother, his sometimes associate in crimes that would get Hermes very thoroughly banned from the Underworld if Hades knew. Nyx enjoys the time not needing to mind the twins, the time she can spend with Persephone without needing to worry one or the other will wake and set to crying.

He is perhaps a touch more reckless than Nyx would like, but he is quick to learn, quicker to catch, and the twins both adore him.

(More pointedly, he does not presume being asked to be a father means Nyx herself desires anything beyond those idle passions they shared; it is quite refreshing, indeed. He is, as ever, a consummate professional.)

**

There is a week Nyx barely cares for the twins at all—the week Hermes arrives and Hypnos, seeing him, gets to their feet and toddles forward, falling very quickly and very fast.

“You can _walk_ ,” Hermes says, delighted, and scoops them up to spin around, much to Hypnos’ delight. “Can your twin walk? We need to show your twin how to walk, oh my _goodness_ , look at you.”

Thanatos cannot quite walk—they have always been slower than their twin—but Thanatos grasps Hermes’ hands and laughs as Hermes tries to teach them anyway.

Nyx spends the time with Persephone in her garden while Hermes coos and praises and has the twins race against his tortoise, Cabbage. She sees to matters of the house that are more difficult when there is a babe in one arm while he sings and tosses them in the air and, in general, makes Hades scowl, torn between affection and irritation at the noise. She reviews the application and background check of a gorgon, Dusa, and conducts an interview while Hermes bribes Cerberus to allow the twins to ride his back with Persephone’s blessing and Hades’ quiet disapproval.

They make the House quite lively—a home, and not only a place to work.

It makes Persephone smile, a warmth that lights the halls up. It is not the only reason Nyx desired the twins, but she would be lying if she suggested it was not _a_ reason.

She knows how much Persephone wishes to be a mother herself, one day.

**

“I mean, it’s just something they do some places,” Hermes says, crouching down on the blanket where, for the moment, Hypnos and Thanatos are sleeping. They are piled one upon the other, Thanatos’ wings half-draped over them both. Thanatos is sleeping with that very serious expression of the very old and very dead.

They sleep very often, her newest children. Much more than she expected considering their father, but she supposes attempting to predict Hermes is a great part of his appeal; nothing she knows of any of any of his prior selves ever actually matters to the current.

“If you would like,” Nyx says, and settles in the air by them to watch this little rite of passage.

It feels it has only been a blink, but she knows that is merely her perception of time. She has raised many children; she has lived since time began in the first place. It is the nature of experience to forget how special some of these moments are—not from lack of love, nor lack of care, but simply because they have become markers that do not need the same celebration as that first child.

It is, in some ways, quite novel to have Hermes’ delight reminding her, once again, that this is indeed a very special day for the very last of her children.

“It doesn’t really mean anything,” Hermes says. “But maybe it does! Wouldn’t that be something.”

He settles legs crossed by the slumbering twins, an array of tokens on the blanket before them. An arrow, likely borrowed from his brother; a coin, likely borrowed from his oftimes associate; a phoenix quill, likely one of his; two knives, one for sacrifices and the other a tool; and dice, most certainly loaded.

Nyx has seen this rite before. She is quite sure these are not the particulars mortals use, but they are fitting choices for their children.

“Rise and shine,” Hermes half sings, and scoops Hypnos away from their twin. Hypnos wakes with a yawn, stretching their arms up and the wings at their head stretching equally wide. They blink a bit as Hermes sets them before the tokens. “Which one tickles your fancy? All very good choices.”

Hermes prattles on, a pleasant stream of words. Hypnos chews a hand, still blinking, then tips forward and grabs for the brilliant phoenix feather quill. They giggle, waving it around, and Hermes beams with pride.

“Excellent choice,” Hermes commends. “Not sure what it means, but excellent all the same.”

Hypnos laughs, sticks the quill in their mouth, and begins to chew; Hermes attempts, with laughter and not quite as much success as he might hope, to stop them.

Nyx finds herself smiling, fond; she does not often indulge in fathers for her children, but there is a reason she allowed Hermes the choice at all.

There are many reasons.

“Your twin’s turn now,” Hermes says, once he has given up on rescuing the feather, allowing Hypnos to suck on the end of the quill.

Thanatos is, as ever, far more difficult to rouse and far, far crankier when they are. They sit wings curled in tight against their back, glaring with an expression far more befitting a crossed Fury than a year old child.

“There, there,” Hermes says, quick to gently stroke Thanatos’ wings a way Nyx still has not quite sorted for herself; it makes them calm, only sullen and drowsy and ill-inclined to move. “Pick something and you can sleep, look at all these toys, surely you want one?”

Thanatos sits, legs sprawled in front of them.

“Is this normal?” Hermes asks, not for the first time. “Doesn’t seem very normal. I was already out and about by this age.”

“It is normal for them,” Nyx says, as always.

Hermes hums at that, but he, for all his theatrics, is quite skilled at patience when he desires to be. He does little more than fuss Thanatos enough to keep them awake until, finally, Thanatos finishes waking. They stand a little unsteadily, but Hermes is quick to steady. Thanatos finally grasps hold of one of the knives—the tool, not the one meant for rites and rituals and splitting open bellies.

“Another excellent choice,” Hermes says, scooping Thanatos back up and much more successfully retrieving the knife from them than he was the quill from Hypnos, who is still sucking on it and giggling. “You can have that when you’re older, maybe next year. Is two a good age for knives? I had a knife by day one, but you never know—”

“It is not,” Nyx says; Hermes looks mildly disappointed and disbelieving both, but then he shrugs, grinning as Thanatos snuggles against his chest and promptly falls back asleep. “I have asked Chef to prepare cake, if you would like.”

Hermes’ wings glow just a little more brightly.

“Now _there’s_ an idea,” Hermes says, getting Thanatos in one arm and then picking up Hypnos and carrying him on his hip, much to Hypnos’ delight.

Thanatos, naturally, sleeps through the birthday cake; Hypnos, however, makes plenty mess enough for them both. It is a small little thing, and soon Hermes has set them both to bed after managing to clean Hypnos off.

“He’s quite a bit more responsible than Hades lets on,” Persephone comments once Hermes has left.

“Yes,” Nyx says, and considers the future that will unfold again.

It is easier, when Hermes is the twin’s sire. It is easiest, when Hermes chooses to be their father. She is glad that in her particular present, both of these possibilities have happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t parents like grandchildren anyway? Hermes thinks so.
> 
> “Hey, Ma!” he calls and he gets exactly one grin in before she notices the children, then sighs, heavy.
> 
> “Why are you stealing children?” she asks, which honestly, a _little_ bit unfair. Just a touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kind words so far <3 I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

“Well, _that’s_ a mess,” Hermes says sympathetically. “Need anything?”

“Only you care for the twins,” Nyx says.

“Of course,” Hermes says, though it will make him quite behind—but he’s not entirely sure he minds, either. He can always just slip through the past, catch back up, sneak in a few light errands when the twins nap. The twins will only be this age once after all and usually live with their mother. Which is _wise_ , for the best, really, but still.

Besides, he knows all the change that was already going on the house, stressing both of the twins, and with the miscarriage—eesh. A little vacation away from home will be good for them both, give Nyx time to go talk to the Fates and get _that_ all sorted out.

“Mind Thanatos,” Nyx warns. “They started to vanish last week.”

“Huh,” Hermes says.

They’re four now, the twins, both of them barely awake. Hermes takes one in each arm and heads for home—not Apollo, nor Olympus, but the cave in the little valley where his mother still lives. Where Hermes grew up, mostly, when he wasn’t wandering, full of sheep and cattle and goats and an eternal mild summer.

He probably should have mentioned to his mother before this that he has children, but he is quite sure she’ll forgive him, because, in general, everyone forgives him.

Don’t parents like grandchildren anyway? He thinks so.

“Hey, Ma!” he calls and he gets exactly one grin in before she notices the children, then sighs, heavy.

“Why are you stealing children?” she asks, which honestly, a _little_ bit unfair. Just a touch.

“Who?” Hypnos asks, stirring just a bit, far more easily startled awake. Thanatos would be alarmed, were they awake, but seeing as they’re drooling on Hermes’ shoulder, that’s one meltdown avoided for now.

“Granma,” Hermes tells them. “We’re going to stay with her for a bit!”

“ _Granma_?” Ma repeats.

“Oh,” Hypnos says, then yawns. “Okay.”

“ _Hermes_ ,” Ma says, and oh, he’s in for it now.

**

“I don’t know why,” Ma says once she’s finished listing all the ways he is, in fact, the worst son, the most horrible, has any mother ever suffered such a son the way she must suffer, _grandchildren_ and he didn’t even _tell_ her, which Hermes listens to very dutifully because he does owe it to her, “you never _tell_ me these things.”

“Sorry,” he tells her, and he means it.

“What do they eat?” she finally asks.

**

“Pop,” Hypnos says, standing in the entry to the kitchen, blanket clutched around their shoulders, “why are those pom-pom-poma-pagnets bad?”

“They’re apples,” Hermes tells them from where he's sat peeling apples for Ma. He cuts a piece off quick and holds it out. Hypnos drifts over, eats it with a great deal of consideration, squinting with their whole face as they consider _apple_ -ness.

“I like it,” Hypnos declares, settling next to Hermes. Hermes cuts the rest of the apple into pieces, gives it to them to eat, and grabs a different to peel.

“You’re not half bad at that,” Ma says as she rolls out dough. “Don’t let those fall on the floor.”

“I’d hope not,” Hermes says, leaning forward so the apple peel falls on the table, instead. “They’re just apples.”

“That, too,” Ma says; he glances up, catches that little bit of a smirk, mentally backs up a bit, then laughs.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Look,” Hypnos says, picking up some of the apple peel from the floor. “Snakes!”

**

Hermes realizes, only after Thanatos wakes and starts wailing only to abruptly stop, that he probably should have clarified what Nyx meant by _vanish_ before she left to go deal with the Fates, but it’s a bit late now since Thanatos has...

well….

vanished.

“Oh, so they really are your children,” Ma says, which _really_ , not helping.

“Hypnos, best child, most wonderful child,” Hermes says, “give me something for your twin.”

“Um,” Hypnos says. “This okay?” They offer up the blanket they were, moments prior, wearing as a cloak.

“Perfect,” Hermes says, presses a quick kiss to their forehead. “You be good for Granma, I’ll be _right_ back. I’m going to get Thanatos.”

He does wait, to make sure Hypnos got all that.

Hypnos blinks, then grins.

“Okay!”

It is not, on the whole, the _proper_ way to send a gift, but honestly, Hermes is less worried about rules and payment and all that nonsense than he is finding where Thanatos went because Thanatos is _four_ and not _half_ as clever or awake or, well, _anything_ Hermes was at four. Thanatos really takes _much_ more after their equally inevitable mother, and there are all kinds of horrible things that will be drawn to a four year old screaming their lungs out, _alone_ , and—

He skids to a stop, blinks, realizes he is halfway across the _globe_.

It’s night, and they’re in a forest.

Thanatos is sitting on the ground, head tipped back, giant tears rolling down their cheeks and doing a very good job of testing just how long they can scream before they need to draw a breath. Considering that they are a god, it’s quite a long time indeed.

“Thanatos,” Hermes says, kneeling down in front of them. It is, thankfully, a very deserted bit of forest, and the screaming has mostly just served to scare off a few deer. Still. This could have been much worse. How did Thanatos even manage it that fast? They can barely run without stumbling. “Hey, Than, best child, most wonderful child.”

He shakes out Hypnos’ blanket, then throws it over Thanatos shoulders and head. It takes a second, but they stop crying, blinking and still hiccuping sobs.

“Quite a shock, huh?” Hermes says.

He’s sure, of course, that Nyx explained to both the twins they’d be staying with him for a while. He’s very sure that both the twins heard it, but he’s also pretty sure that Thanatos didn’t really understand what that would _mean_ because, as they’ve all realized, Thanatos generally doesn’t realize what anything _means_ until it happens.

Just like, of course, Thanatos handles change about as well as—Hermes isn’t sure. Maybe a tortoise. Except tortoises don’t blink halfway across the globe when they get upset.

(At least, Hermes hopes that's why they're crying and _not_ because. Well. Their name _is_ Thanatos. But neither of the twins have seemed to come into their own yet, so maybe, hopefully, his child that barely talks is only upset about waking up somewhere new. That's happened before.)

Thanatos sucks down a very snotty breath, looks like they’re going to begin to wail again. Hermes scoops them up, tucks their face against his neck, and walks a bit. Easy, slow, a steady rhythm, just wandering through the dark and forest and gently rubbing the back of Thanatos’ head.

“There, there,” Hermes says. “It’s going to be all right.”

“No,” Thanatos says, ever a ray of sunshine; he’d love his uncle Apollo. _No_ is probably Thanatos’ favourite word, which is good, as it’s also one of the only ones they say.

“We’re going to stay with your granma,” Hermes tells them. “Her name is Maia and she’s very nice. So nice. You’re going to love her. She’s very slow and _very_ patient.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Hermes says. “Sorry. Now we’re going to go back and eat dinner and then I’ll sing you a song.”

“...maybe,” Thanatos says, which is good enough for Hermes.

**

“Than!” Hypnos yells as soon as they get back, springing into the air and apple peel going everywhere. Thanatos keeps one hand very firmly on the blanket wrapped around their shoulders, but they let Hypnos grab their other hand and pull them to the table where Ma is watching, not very impressed but _also_ not disappointed, which is pretty good in Hermes’ books.

Hypnos begins to tell Thanatos what seems to be a very detailed history of the apple peel snakes as they settle on the cushions at the low table. Hermes joins them and helps himself to bread and ignores the way his mother is looking at him even though he knows that won’t actually—has _never_ actually—stopped her from speaking her mind. It’s one of the things he loves about his mother, really.

Instead, he watches as the Hypnos explains that _no_ , that one is a _ground_ snake, they need to eat a _table_ snake, and Thanatos decides, instead, to try an apple piece.

“They’re both kind of,” Hermes starts but, in truth, he doesn’t want to say _odd_. They’re not _odd_.

“They’re like us,” Ma says and Hermes sighs, relieved.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like us.”

**

It’s nice, home. Hermes never comes back as much as he should—he forgets, if he’s perfectly honest for once. He normally _isn’t_ perfectly honest, but he tries to be for the twins, so there, a bit of truth.

It’s nice to spend the time with the twins, a long stretch—long for him. Hermes doesn’t understand half of what comes out of Hypnos’ mouth, but he listens anyway; Hypnos babbles like Hermes still did at that age, more words and ideas than he knows what to do with, words that run like water. They babble like Hermes still _does_ when he’s drunk enough. Hypnos talks enough for both of the twins, which is a good thing since Thanatos still has about five words he'll say.

Hermes might admit he finds Hypnos a bit easier to understand than Thanatos.

But that doesn’t mean he _doesn’t_ understand Thanatos.

There’s a day that Hypnos is babbling about—bats and the Styx and rainbow fish that fly like bats, something like that. They’re making very big gestures that nearly knock them over, stumbling over words and mangling grammar in their pressing urgency to explain how—Hermes might be mistaken—bats and rainbow fish fight a war over who gets to eat the pagnets that the big big very very big thiiiiis big dogdogdog (Cerberus) brings home. Something like that.

In any case, Hermes is sitting, listening and asking questions when Hypnos stops for breath and keeping an eye on Thanatos, who is helping Ma cut carrots.

(Hermes did _not_ give Thanatos the knife, _Ma_ did, and he is prepared to point that out if anything happens, but Ma seems quite sure that Thanatos will be fine.)

Thanatos has been very keen, in a way they have not been keen on nearly anything, on carrots. Specifically, cutting them. They are cutting them with Ma, frowning that serious way that honestly belongs on a grandparent and not a child, and cutting very precise—for a four year old—rounds. Hermes thinks it might be the sound when the knife gives and thunks against the cutting board. It _is_ a pretty satisfying sound.

“ _And_ ,” Hypnos says, bringing their hands down on the table, “the dogdogdog _eats_ the _most big_ one!”

Thanatos freezes.

“That’s amazing,” Hermes says, half an eye on how Thanatos’ wings have drawn in tight, how they are still not moving. “You know what else is amazing?”

“What?” Hypnos asks.

“Sheep.”

“Sheep?”

“You haven’t seen a _sheep_ yet? I’m a failure. Come on, let me show you a sheep, amazing, you’ll love it. Unless, of course—”

“I wanna see!” Hypnos cries and Hermes gets up.

“We have to go find a sheep,” Hermes says, a bit slower than he normally would. He says it to Ma, but it’s _for_ Thanatos. “Very urgent.”

“Be home before noon,” Ma says, which obviously, but it is, Hermes is pretty sure, for Thanatos as well. Ma is much more clever than anyone gives her credit for.

“Let’s go,” Hermes says, hefting Hypnos up and putting them on his shoulders.

“Save a carrot for me,” Hermes tells Thanatos, backing out of the room, not worried about the ceiling because even with Hypnos, he’s still shorter than Ma and the cave has very much been carved for her.

“Yes,” Thanatos finally says, wings relaxing.

“Is a sheep a dog?” Hypnos asks.

“That’s an incredible question,” Hermes says. “Let’s find out.”

**

Hypnos, it turns out, _loves_ sheep.

“Please?” Hypnos asks.

“It won’t end well,” Hermes tells them.

“ _Please_ ,” Hypnos asks again, this time looking up at Hermes and wings at their head fluffing and eyes dewy and look, _look_ , experience is the best teacher, Hermes is quick, it will be _fine_.

“ _One_ time,” Hermes says, trying to pick one that is fat and lazy and least likely to bolt as soon as he puts Hypnos on its back.

**

One time turns into many times. Carrots show up a bit more than Hermes thinks strictly necessary. Hypnos’ ramblings include many, many more sheep; Thanatos’ carrots start to be turned into other shapes, but especially mice. They both, the two of them, seem to like it here—Hypnos openly telling Ma as much, but Thanatos, too, their own way.

(Thanatos latches onto her peplos with one hand, follows her when she cooks, lets her carry them when they sleep.)

In the evenings, when Hermes puts them to bed, he invariably ends up sleeping with them. He never feels restless when he’s got them one on each side; he hasn’t slept this much in _centuries_. Maybe in his whole life. Thanatos never stays awake long for stories, but Hypnos clings to waking as long as they can.

“Will we come back?” Hypnos asks one night.

“We’ll ask your mother.”

“Will Mother come back?”

“Of course,” Hermes says, because she will. There’s only the problem of Zagreus and all the changes going on at the House which, they both know, will be easier for Thanatos if they simply come back to the change done. “She’s just busy.”

“With our _baby brother_ ,” Hypnos says, the lie Nyx said and Hermes hasn't corrected but doesn't, on the whole, sit very well with him. Hypnos yawn wide, stretching against Hermes’ side, then settle back in; it makes Hermes’ eyes heavy, makes it hard for him to stay awake.

It’s comfortable, laying on sheep skins and wool blankets and under more blankets with both his children. Being a father is tiring, the most tiring thing he’s ever done.

“Sing a song?” Hypnos asks.

“Of course,” Hermes says, dropping a kiss on thick starbright curls. “Then sleep. You’ll wake your twin.”

“Nu-uh.”

But Hypnos goes quiet; Hermes sings, gentle, and then, without meaning to—he never means to—falls asleep, too.

**

It’s nice, being home, being with the twins, having Ma to teach him, but everything comes to an end, and after three months Nyx shows up just after sunset; she looks like she’s missed all the sleep Hermes has been getting.

It’s _probably_ a safe assumption Zagreus does not sleep nearly as much as the twins did at that age. Hermes has some guesses on what a spring goddess and the earth's molten king might make, and few beginnings are sleepy things at all.

Leaving goes well, or it seems to be going well. Hypnos is hugging Ma goodbye, Thanatos is sleepy rubbing an eye and clutching the sheepskin Ma gave them to their chest, and Nyx is waiting patiently for the both to finish their farewells.

Then Hypnos starts crying, which is fine, it’s perfectly normal, expected response—

“We’ll come back, don’t worry, I’ll show you how to write letters,”

—except that makes Thanatos _finish_ waking and Hermes glances up right as Nyx goes _“Thanatos_ ” to see Thanatos vanish. Which.

Well, Hermes is pretty sure he knows how they do it now, and _what a trick_ , but also _what a trick_. Space? Hermes skips through thought, time, he's never just stepped through _space_. Surely Hermes didn’t see that right but—

“I’ll get them,” Hermes says.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Hypnos wails.

“No, child,” Nyx says, sweeping them up. “Do not be.”

“Here,” Ma says, handing Hermes a fig. “For Thanatos.”

**

Thanatos did not, actually, go that far. Hermes finds them sitting on some rocks at the edge of the valley, sheep skin clutched tight and wings drawn around themself, staring sullenly at sleeping cattle.

“Hey, Than,” Hermes says. He sits down next to them, pulls out a knife and quarters the fig. “Granma was worried, sent you this fig.”

He offers a piece; after a moment, Thanatos takes it.

“Pretty scary, isn’t it? New brother! Half brother. What if they’re not as nice as Hypnos? Big change.”

Thanatos takes the second piece from him, wings easing up a little.

“And you just got all settled in here, I know. You can always come visit Granma if the House gets too much, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He lets them take the rest, then reaches over, gently pets one wing, and stays quiet for a while.

Eventually, Thanatos leans over to hug him. Hermes drops a kiss on silver hair that doesn’t have nearly so many curls, more heavy and dense like their mother’s.

“Ready to go back?”

“...maybe,” Thanatos says.

“You’ll have Hypnos and me and Cerberus and your mother,” Hermes promises, pulling them into his arms and standing. “And that Fury, Megaera, you like her, don’t you? I bet she’s missed you. You can show her your carrot mice, she’ll love them.”

He walks back slow across the valley. It’s not that long, really, and it gives Thanatos time to finish preparing mentally before they get back. Thanatos needs Ma's sort of slow, even if it doesn't much suit Hermes.

“There you are,” Ma says as they arrive, sitting outside with Nyx and Hypnos near the entrance of the cave. They’re eating figs, Hypnos smiling and laughing and, what with it being well past when they usually sleep, struggling very much with staying awake.

“Realized I hadn’t shown Thanatos a sheep,” Hermes says. “Worst father, frankly, not showing them a sheep before they go home.”

“Mother, can I have a sheep?” Hypnos asks.

“No,” Nyx says. “Thank you again, Maia.”

“Hermes did all the work,” Maia says. “I just fed them."

Nyx hums; Hermes shrugs and grins a bit.

“What?” he asks. “They’re mine, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Nyx says. “It is time to go.”

They bid last farewells, and then head off. Hermes has quite the backlog to address, and it will be a while before he can linger with the twins but...

He puts them to bed, in _their_ bed back at the House, then joins them. One last sleep, for the road.


	3. Chapter 3

“But,” Hypnos says, peering over the edge of the desk, “Pop says it’s _important_.”

Hades sighs deeply, and considers how there are very many other things that are much, much more important than a made-up ritual that does not actually mean anything.

“Then organize something,” Hades says.

“Can I really?” Hypnos asks, pulling themself up just a bit more, eyes wide and wings giving a little flap that sends parchment scattering.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hades says.

Hypnos drops down and darts off, thankfully. One of Cerberus’ heads whines; when Hades looks, the dog is giving him a disappointed look.

“I did not yell,” Hades says. He has quite a lot of practice not yelling these days. He waves a hand and the parchment rearranges itself back on his desk so he can get back to work orders and not indulging spoiled five year olds the absurd flights of fancy their equally flighty father has put in their head. _Pop_. Absurd.

Cerberus huffs and stands, turning around so his shoulder is presented to Hades instead.

“This entire House is against me,” Hades mutters, and goes back to work.

**

Hades had, of course, attempted to protest Hermes being allowed in the House, Hermes’ entire involvement with the twins, and in fact, Hermes even being allowed in the Underworld many, many times. He continues to have very little desire to interact with the dramatics of his family on Olympus, and Hermes is a _gossip_.

(To risk Demeter finding Persephone and causing a war, because that is quite _like_ her.)

“The manner in which I raise my children, Lord Hades, is not up for debate,” Nyx had said.

(And now, well... He can, at least, provide Persephone her cottage, her little space on the surface, her safety. He will, perhaps, one day work out a way to deal with her mother, but that is a hope he very much does not allow himself to dwell on much.)

His nephew is a thief, a liar, a _trickster_.

He is also, _somehow_ , a decent father. Hades has no idea where Hermes could have learned it, considering Zeus, considering _everything_ about Hermes’ youth, but both of the twins _adore_ him and, more importantly, _listen_ to him. Hades cannot imagine either desiring to murder their father which, considering their family, is quite the feat.

Hades is not quite sure he _believes_ there’s such a thing as a decent father, despite seeing Hermes far more than he wishes. Such as now.

“Delivery!” Hermes half-sings, Thanatos on one hip holding a stack of notes. “An invitation.”

“No,” Hades says.

“You haven’t even read it,” Hermes protests, plucking a note from Thanatos’ hands and dropping it directly on the petition that Hades is presently reading. The little wax seal has a mouse. Delightful. “Thanatos went to a lot of trouble making invitations for everyone, the least you could do is read it. Isn’t that right, Thanatos?”

“...yes.”

“Exactly, now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve more to deliver, don’t we?”

Hades watches them go, at least for the few steps until Hermes properly takes off, then looks at the note.

Gamma head huffs.

“You can have mine,” Hades tells him, but he unfolds the note anyway.

_You are cordally invited to:_

_ZAGREUS 1ST BIRTHDAY_

_tomoro mornite_

_at the LOUNGE_

_there will be REFRESHMINTS_

Other than the spelling errors, the handwriting is quite fine, that particular sort of barely readable all the best invitations are. Thanatos in general has always seemed to have more willingness to _write_ than _speak_. Hades does not see why Hermes and Nyx coddle the child so but, as has been made quite clear, it is not his decision to question.

Which makes this quite irksome.

Zagreus is _his_ son, and yet this house is full of _ideas_ on how Hades should raise him.

(He does not know how to do this; he never thought he would have a child, an heir. Then he thought he would have Persephone to help; it has always been easier, learning these things with her. Then.)

He does not burn the invitation. He sets it aside and goes back to work.

Attempts.

Finds instead Hypnos, staring over the edge of the desk _again_ , fingers gripping the edge and very wide gold eyes and a mop of bright curls that nearly hide their wings.

“Are you gonna come?” Hypnos asks. “I think you should come. It will be fun if you come.”

“I will consider it,” Hades says instead of _no_. Instead of yell at the child to leave, instead of complain that what he wants, in fact, is to _work_.

(To not think. A year already.)

“Yay!” Hypnos cries, wings flapping, sending parchment scattering once more, and flits up, floats higher, then flits off towards Nyx. “Ma, I mean, Mother! He said he’ll come!”

Hades huffs, shoots a glare as all of Cerberus’ heads huff a wheezing cough that sounds _suspiciously_ like laughter.

**

“Let's see to this then,” Hades says when he arrives at the lounge, causing a small flurry of activity. There is a seat saved for him, unfortunately next to Hermes. Nyx tilts her head slightly as she sees him, bouncing Zagreus in her arms and unperturbed by his tugging on her hair. Thanatos is sleeping half draped over the table next to Hypnos, Hypnos dozing between Thanatos and Hermes. There are various shades, Cerberus settled in a corner and all his heads panting pleased, and it feels, just a little, like the House used to.

“Hades,” Hermes grins, bright, “so glad you put work away for just a second, I know how hard that is for you, incredible really—”

“Hermes,” Hades interrupts, taking his seat between Hermes and Nyx. He considers the blanket before them, the assorted odds and ends—a child’s sword, a length of ivy brought here who knows how, a small pile of emeralds, a laurel crown not so unlike Hades own that raises a number of questions, a vial of—

“Is that _blood_?” Hades asks.

“No idea,” Hermes says brightly. “Hypnos picked everything out.”

—blood, why did he allow Hypnos to arrange this?

“Huh?” Hypnos asks, blinking awake, then beams, nudging Thanatos. “I told you he’d come, Than, see!”

“How does this work?” Hades asks, as it is the politest thing he can say at the moment.

“You put Zagreus on the blanket and we see what he picks. Might mean something, might not, but it’s fun either way,” Hermes says.

“It does mean something, actually, they all do, I can explain it, if you want, like how—”

“Perhaps later, Hypnos,” Nyx interrupts, not unkindly, and hands Zagreus off to Hades. Hades takes his son carefully, not for the first time terrified by how… _small_ Zagreus is.

(How fragile.)

Zagreus blinks up at him, then grins wide and reaches a hand out to try and tug his beard.

“No,” Hades says, then sets him on the blanket. He does not see the point of all this, and he does not particularly want to listen to Hypnos explain in excruciating detail what Zagreus’ choice means.

Zagreus sits a moment, then stands. He toddles to each thing in turn, chooses exactly nothing, then once his inspection complete, he walks right back to Hades, latching onto him with a hug.

“Pa,” Zagreus says, grinning wide; a feeling that Hades does not have the means nor words to express is unfolding in his chest, the same feeling as when he first held Zagreus, the same as the second time he held him when Nyx managed, somehow, to get him back.

(He is not meant to have an heir, and yet he does. He was not meant to be a father, and yet he is.)

“Odd choice,” Hermes says, grinning as Hypnos starts to open his mouth. Hypnos stops, looking at his father, then beams just as wide.

“A fine choice,” Nyx corrects. “Chef, the cake, if you would.”

Zagreus is small and laughs brightly and makes a mess with the cake, but Hades holds him in one arm anyway, his fragile little son, and wonders how he might manage not to ruin him.

(How he might manage to keep him safe.)

**

The House is quiet, shift over, and Hades is drinking.

(Nectar. He does not wish for the memories ambrosia will call to mind.)

He is alone in the lounge, that little nook of respite that was, ultimately, Persephone's idea— Nyx and Hades both too practical to consider it. It was not as if they receive many guests. He is alone in the lounge, drinking nectar and watching the fireplace burn low, and thinking again—as he has been since the blasted birthday party—about Zagreus.

Hades was not meant to raise Zagreus alone. All the best of him he learned from Persephone.

(He has no idea how to be a father. He knows how to be a king.)

"This seat taken?" Hermes asks. Quiet, more shadow and not quite so much sunbeam. Ever a contradiction, his nephew.

"No," Hades says because…

The truth is a thing Hades does not often like.

(...because he pities his brother's children; Hades knows exactly the kind of man who would raise up his brothers and sisters to kill their parents and then declare himself their king.

The truth is, when Hades received the Underworld, he was grateful for the excuse to leave, even as he missed the sun, the wind, the sea.)

"Contraband," Hermes hums, taking the seat next to him and picking up the bottle of nectar. "Disposing of it properly I see."

The truth is, Hermes is a liar, a thief, and a cheat, and yet he is also a professional, a prophet, and a bit of the sun Hades cannot see anymore.

"What do you want?" Hades asks.

"Nothing, really," Hermes says, and it might even be true. He grabs a cup from over the counter and pours himself some of the nectar, setting the bottle back down with a satisfying thud.

And Hermes is… quiet.

They drink, the two of them. At some point Hermes pulls out more nectar and Hades turns blind eye because it never really was contraband—just a reminder he did not want of another of those gentle habits Persephone introduced.

She made the Underworld _breathe_ , Persephone; she made it so Hades did not miss the sky and sea and wind. Her laughter, her songs, her compassion despite everything. How brazen she was to demand to be brought here, to stay, her hope that his kingdom would be better than Olympus despite being so far beneath everything.

She wanted so desperately to be a mother. How he thought she might get to be. Dared to hope.

Hades wonders if he could possibly raise a son she might be proud of without her.

(He doubts it. Persephone's son would have her heart, her compassion—Hades has never had her soft touch.)

"Bit frightening, isn't it?" Hermes asks, that nephew of his quick as thought, that divine go between.

Another time Hades might be furious at the intrusion but.

(He is too much his father's son to let go pride and speak a fear first.)

"Didn't think it was, and then woops, there they go, doing things I didn't realize I'd taught them. Bit funny, cute, then you realize you've never actually loved anyone so much. Probably should have run when Nyx asked."

"Why didn't you?"

Hermes shrugs.

"Couldn't say," and he might even be telling the truth.

Hades does not suggest Hermes could leave now—Hermes is not one to ever abandon a choice once he has set foot to a path. It is an admirable trait, when Hades is not irritated by it.

Besides, Hades could not lose Zagreus again. Not now. He knows why Hermes doesn't flee.

They drink more, quiet, the fire crackling. They drink, and listen to the House sleep, and finally, Hades lets go pride.

(Hermes' children are what Persphone would desire of her son—troublesome at times, yes, but kind. Warm. Hypnos making sure even Hades would attend, Thanatos' painstaking invitations, the gifts they bring back from the surface that Hades does not want and does not throw aside.)

"How?" Hades asks, glad that it is Hermes, that omen reader.

Hermes is quiet a long while; Hades waits because...

"Ma, mostly." Hermes holds his cup carefully, wings tucked neat, and Hades holds his tongue instead of risk ruining this moment they are in where the rules, for a little while, aren't so clear. Where Hades does not need to be gruff, contained, a king. Where they are only two gods, equals. "She did a lot. More than Zeus, that's for sure. And I got to thinking, since I don't know a single father who hasn't killed _his_ father, all the way up the tree, maybe I should follow her lead."

Hades considers that. Considers what few memories he has of his own mother, faint though they are. How desperately she tried to keep them safe. To love them, despite what they would be molded into, her sons.

"Mostly," Hermes adds, "I don't want them to ever feel the way I felt, when I realized—"

He goes silent; there is an edge to him, his hands tightening on his cup, wings tensing. A knife-sharp jaggedness to his shadows, a pent up hurt that has long since turned to anger.

"They deserve to not need an Apollo to shine," Hermes says, clipped and precise and millennia of careful consideration.

Careful, gentle—though he is not given to gentleness—Hades places a hand on Hermes shoulder. Squeezes, just a little. A wordless comfort, because he does not have words that will fix all that his brother has done to his children.

"I hope," Hades tells him, "I might manage half as well as you, Nephew."

Hermes startles, just a little, then he smiles. A rare one, a true one—it touches the corners of his eyes, because Hermes is not so young as he likes to pretend.

"Thanks, Uncle."

Hades let's his hand drop, takes a drink from his own cup.

"But," Hades adds, *I was considering something slightly more practical."

"Was that a _joke_?" Hermes asks, eyes lighting up. "Did you just try to make a joke?"

Hades scowls and regrets it immediately.

"Oh, I see, of _course_ it wasn't, almost gave me a start there," Hermes says, laughter bright and scattered as sunbeams through trees. "Well, to _start_ —"

Hades hides his smile, listens, and dares to think, to hope, perhaps he will not need do this quite so alone or blind as he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be still, boy,” Lord Hades says, picking Zagreus up and setting him on his lap. Lord Hades says _boy_ the way Pop says _Thanatos_ and _Hypnos_ —like it matters, like it matters more than anything in all the everything. 
> 
> Zagreus barely reaches the desk, but he slaps his hands on the surface and pretends to be like his p—father, for a little while, which makes Lord Hades chuckle, which means it's okay, the bad thing is a not thing, at least right now, and Thanatos can sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise we are gonna get a big long hypnos bit too, don't you worry. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading so far <3

“You aren’t coming?” Hypnos asks.

“Yes,” Thanatos says instead of _I can’t go what if_ because he can go physically, and what if also means _maybe won’t_. Zagreus is playing with Cerberus. Zagreus is trying to burn Cerberus with his feet. Maybe this is what the bad thing is.

(The last maybe bad thing he saw was the queen. He remembers. Now the queen is gone.)

“But you love Granma,” Hypnos says.

“Yes,” Thanatos agrees, because he does.

“Well, if you say so,” Hypnos says, yawning. “I’m going to tell Mother goodbye.”

Cerberus licks Zagreus. Nothing bad happens.

But something bad _will_ happen. Maybe. It feels like something bad will happen. It sticks to Zagreus like a... a... a shadow. Like Lord Hades’ shadow, which has never been bad. A big shadow that isn’t bad but might be bad but might not be bad and might happen tomorrow but might not happen tomorrow or... or. It will happen, eventually, but—

“Ready to go?” Pop asks.

Zagreus smacks Alpha’s nose. Alpha sneezes, very gross and disgusting and _vile_.

Thanatos likes the word _vile_.

“Thanatos doesn’t wanna go,” Hypnos says.

“Huh,” Pop says, then he crouches down. Thanatos looks away from Zagreus, only a moment.

(When they were four, they got to meet Zagreus and Zagreus is their brother. Their little brother. Half-brother. Ma—Mother said they would need to help take care of him, and Pop said they could help keep him safe but not from what but maybe Pop knew about the bad thing, the thing Thanatos can see like a big shadow looming, but Thanatos didn't notice it follow Zagreus until a week ago so maybe Pop doesn't know.)

(The Queen lost her baby. Thanatos remembers how it felt. Maybe that's why she disappeared?)

“Are you sure?” Pop asks.

Thanatos is not sure. He loves Granma. He likes her little garden full of carrots and radishes and leeks and garlic and rosemary and much more, Hypnos knows how much, Hypnos made a list for Thanatos. Granma is very _stable_ and very big and very safe. Nothing bad happens with Granma except sometimes they run out of figs or Hypnos gets a bruise trying to ride the sheep.

But Zagreus’ shadow is all wrong and no one else knows and Thanatos doesn’t know how to explain it because maybe it won’t happen so he can’t _say_ it, he wants to say things that are _true_ and _maybe_ isn’t true.

It’s maybe.

“...maybe,” Thanatos says.

Pop frowns but he nods.

“Well, if that 'maybe' becomes a 'I want to go', you know the way,” he says. “I’ll tell your mother.”

Thanatos gives him a hug, because Pop gives the best hugs—warm and comfortable and _safe_. Nothing bad happens in Pop’s arms.

Maybe he could have Pop hug Zagreus. Carry him. But Zagreus is a half-brother, not whole brother, and Lord Hades is Zagreus’ father. And being held all the time would make Zagreus unhappy.

So Thanatos will stay.

Thanatos sits in the air next to Zagreus and Cerberus, elbows on his legs and chin in his hands, and watches his little half-brother who maybe-maybe not has a bad thing that will happen.

Maybe.

**

It’s not that Thanatos doesn’t know _how_ to talk. It’s just words mean too much.

“Thanatos,” Mother calls, because he stayed so he will have lessons. He has lessons with Granma, too, about which herbs are good for headaches and which are good for food and which flower pretty for the bees and how to tell when he can pull a carrot up. He doesn't need lessons about picking plants because he always knows when to pick them but he doesn't tell Granma that.

Mother teaches him about stars and constellations and time and space so he doesn’t get lost when he blinks, because sometimes everything is too much _everything_ and he blinks and he ends up somewhere else.

But he’s getting better at that.

“Yes,” he says.

Zagreus is playing with blocks and balls and a toy sword, and Thanatos is playing a little too. He stacks the blocks as high as he can, higher than Zagreus can, and then Zagreus knocks them down. It makes Zagreus shriek with laughter. Thanatos thinks it is why Lord Hades is smiling, just a little. It does make Cerberus smile, all the heads, even Gamma.

Lord Hades loves Zagreus too much. Like Thanatos feels everything too much. It’s scary, sometimes.

But Lord Hades hasn't shouted in a long time and he is trying even though he’s scared, so Thanatos tries too.

“Let’s go,” Thanatos says and he picks Zagreus up very carefully and brings him with to go to Mother and lessons.

“Than,” Zagreus complains, but Thanatos brings his toys too, after. He’s getting better at moving in space, especially when it’s all here, in the House. He never gets lost in the House.

Maybe the bad thing isn’t in the House? Maybe if Zagreus is in the House it’s okay. The House is very safe.

Mother is looking at him, but she doesn’t ask. She lays out the universe in stars and he sits next to her in the air and he listens and he tells her where boundaries are and blackholes and half-steps and all the spaces in between, and then he tries it smaller scale when she picks out a smaller patch of space, and then they do it again.

Zagreus gets up halfway through the lesson, starts walking off.

Thanatos should go with him, but it’s lessons. He worries at the edge of his chiton and he watches Zagreus stumble down the hall and he tries to pay attention to Mother and he tries to figure out if the shadow-maybe bad thing happens now or later or never and he tries to ignore the shades talking nearby and he tries—

“Thanatos,” Mother says very gently, star map vanishing.

He looks away from Zagreus, just for a moment.

“Is everything well?” she asks.

“...maybe,” Thanatos says, because he doesn’t know.

Zagreus toddles into the great hall, then goes around the corner where Thanatos can’t see. Thanatos wants to go after him. He’s supposed to take care of him. Keep him safe. Zagreus is his little brother. Half-brother. He’s not like Hypnos, who can do anything and is so quick and bright and keeps himself safe.

“That’s enough for today,” Mother says.

It’s only halfway through, they haven’t even talked about the surface yet, but Thanatos doesn’t ask. He’s just glad. He grasps the space around the corner, blinks, and finds Zagreus tugging the hem of Lord Hades’ clothes and Lord Hades grumbling and Thanatos breathes out a sigh, settling in the shadows out of sight.

Lord Hades is Zagreus’ pop— _father_. Thanatos still doesn't know the difference between the words, just like he doesn't know the difference between _ma_ and _mother_ , only that there must be one. Just like _he_ and _she_ and _they_. Hypnos knows, probably, because Hypnos never hesitates when he talks and Hypnos decided on _he_ over _they_ so Thanatos did, too.

“Be still, boy,” Lord Hades says, picking Zagreus up and setting him on his lap. Lord Hades says _boy_ the way Pop says _Thanatos_ and _Hypnos_ —like it matters, like it matters more than anything in all the everything.

Zagreus barely reaches the desk, but he slaps his hands on the surface and pretends to be like his p—father, for a little while, which makes Lord Hades chuckle, which means it's okay, the bad thing is a not thing, at least right now, and Thanatos can sleep.

He likes sleeping. It’s so quiet. There’s not everything being everything when he sleeps.

So he does. In the shadows and dark at the edges of the hall, he curls up and he gets comfortable and he goes to sleep, easy as breathing. Easier, really.

He always wants to sleep.

**

It’s hard to wake up. It is always very hard to wake up and it takes a long time. It takes less time when Hypnos is with him, but Hypnos is at Granma’s. Thanatos wishes he were at Granma’s, but he needs to… do something. He thinks. It’s hard to remember. Zagreus, right. Zagreus and a shadow and—

Where is Zagreus?

He jolts the rest of the way awake. The Great Hall is quiet, no petitioners, the rest of the House done with the shift and quiet and even Lord Hades is gone and there is no Zagreus here.

He checks Zagreus’ room first, but Zagreus isn’t there. He checks his and Hypnos’ room, because sometimes Zagreus is there, but Zagreus isn’t there either. He checks the lounge and the east wing and the west wing and he even checks the garden though that’s forbidden, but Zagreus isn’t any of those places and maybe Thanatos shouldn’t have slept, he _should not have_ , what if Zagreus is in trouble and the bad thing happened and—

“There you are,” Mother says and he freezes guiltily because the shift is over for the day and the whole house is quiet and he should be in bed. “I have been looking for you, my child,” which means he is very much in some sort of trouble.

Thanatos wants to ask her where Zagreus is. Zagreus does not sleep very much. Zagreus is probably maybe not sleeping now. Maybe he's with Lord Hades? Thanatos doesn't want to get in trouble with Lord Hades, but maybe he should check anyway.

“Yes?” he says.

“Come with me,” Mother says.

Thanatos wants to say _no_. He needs to find Zagreus first. It's very important because he doesn't know how to say what might be wrong because it might not be wrong and he has to tell the exact truth but words are very _inexact_. But Pop always says it's very important that he listen when Mother tells him things because of many, many reasons, some of which Thanatos remembers and most he doesn't but it's okay because Hypnos writes them all down for Thanatos for later. With his lists.

He doesn't know which one is more important, listening to Mother or taking care of Zagreus, but he knows he doesn't know where Zagreus is and Zagreus doesn't sleep very much.

"No," Thanatos says, and blinks.

He will get in a lot of trouble later and he won't be able to explain it but family is more important. That's what Pop always says when Lord Hades complains.

**

Zagreus is with Charon at the little pier near the entrance of the House. Charon is showing him fish and Zagreus is mostly splashing the water.

Charon is very tall and very big and very, _very_ safe. Almost as safe as Grandma. He doesn't talk very much, just like Thanatos, but Thanatos thinks it's for a different reason.

"Than!" Zagreus says, standing up. He wobbles at the edge, Charon steadies him, and then half falls running forward to hug Thanatos. "Look look."

Thanatos follows over to the edge and looks at the little fish swimming just beneath the surface. Dark shadows surface slick and they're very _foreboding_. There's an open pomegranate and Charon is tossing the seeds in to make the fish plop up, strange fish mouths open-closing. Thanatos doesn't like these fish and he doesn't like the Styx. It is too hot and too bright and it stings his skin when he touches it but Zagreus loves the Styx.

"Fiiiish," Zagreus sings, "fish fishy fish. Wanna fish."

Thanatos sits next to him on the pier anyway.

Eventually, though, Charon has to go. Charon is Thanatos' half brother too, big brother. He works with Pop, they bring all the shades to the House and everywhere else in the Underworld, it is a very important job. Thanatos can't swim in the Styx to catch Zagreus if he falls, so he hugs Charon good bye then picks Zagreus up and carries him inside.

Mother is waiting. Thanatos stares very firmly at her hands folded in her lap while Zagreus fusses to be put down again and yanks a lock of hair to make his point.

" _Down_ ," Zagreus half-shrieks, but Thanatos holds him because he is in trouble. Because as soon as he puts Zagreus down, Zagreus will run but Thanatos is in trouble and won't be able to follow him.

His face feels hot. His eyes sting.

"Thanatos," Mother says. "Set your brother down."

Zagreus is crying, which is loud and might wake people up and Mother said but he doesn't know how to say he can't, that maybe something bad will happen, that it follows Zagreus like a promise or an omen or… or… or a vulture, like it's waiting. That it's like the shadows he sees following mortals, the rare times he sees mortals, like it did the queen before she left, and he doesn't know what it means except it's not _good_. Maybe it's not bad but he doesn't know and Zagreus is crying and angry and Thanatos can't let him go because he doesn't want Zagreus to get hurt, he's supposed to help him and keep him safe and and and—

"No," he says. His eyes sting and he's crying and his chest hurts and Zagreus is pulling his hair and Mother has unfolded her hands, drawn closer and he's in trouble and everything is too much _everything_ and he _wants_ to go to _Grandma's_ but he _can't_ because Zagreus isn’t allowed to go but—

Mother gestures then there's darkness and they're in Zagreus' room. Which is safe, because Mother is here.

"Set him down," Mother repeats.

Thanatos puts Zagreus down, then curls in and starts sobbing. Mother pulls him into her arms and he cries against her, big ugly sobs that choke, that make him shake, cries like he hasn't in a while because he's been getting better at _everything_ but but—

"Than?" Zagreus asks. "Than okay?"

"He will be well," Mother says, stroking his hair, holding him. "Zagreus, fetch your brother a book. A pretty book."

When the worst of the sobs break, they sit, he and Zagreus, safe in Mother's lap on Zagreus' little bed and she reads a book that has pretty pictures to them until Thanatos falls asleep, both of them safe in Mother's lap.

**

"We need to speak," Mother says.

Thanatos sits on Zagreus' bed and watches his little brother play. Half brother.

He hates when he has to speak.

"I am only concerned, Thanatos,” Mother says, which means he’s not in trouble though maybe he should be. “You have been following Zagreus all week and barely let him out of your sight. You have not slept well. You refused to go to your grandmother’s for this. It is not like you, and I wish only to ease your fears.”

Mother doesn’t mention last mornight, which is nice, because he doesn’t want to talk about not being able to put Zagreus down and being in trouble even more than he doesn’t want to speak about the maybe bad thing that follows Zagreus like a shadow.

“Is there something wrong?” Mother asks.

Maybe isn’t yes, and it isn’t no. It’s maybe.

“...maybe.”

Mother nods. She pulls parchment and ink and a quill from the darkness and sets them on the desk that Zagreus is still too little to use.

“Take as much time as you need,” she says; relief floods Thanatos.

Writing and drawing is _easier_. He can spend as long as he wants picking exactly the right word. He can draw the things he sees and that’s much better than words, too.

“And Thanatos,” Mother says before she leaves, Zagreus in her arms.

“Mother?”

“Zagreus is always under my watch,” she says. “Just as you and Hypnos are. Even if _you_ sometimes slip my gaze for a moment.” She smiles, her slightest smile, but one that makes her eyes sparkle.

He didn't think of that.

Mother’s watch is very safe. The safest. Everywhere is safe in the House because of her. Only Thanatos can manage to trick her, and Pop; Zagreus _definitely_ can't.

Thanatos sits at the desk and tries to think of how to explain the shadow that follows Zagreus and is maybe bad and maybe not and maybe tomorrow and maybe never.

**

“Huh,” Hermes says when Nyx gives him Thanatos’ rather extensive notes.

“I assume you can make sense of what he is seeing?”

They both of them have contributed different parts of themselves; for all Nyx’s many, many children are endings, she herself is not particularly one. She is only inevitable. Hermes, however—

“Yeah,” Hermes says, “I’ll talk to him.”

“Is there reason to be concerned about Zagreus?”

“No,” Hermes says. “He’s still a god. It’s about like Hades, really.”

“Ah,” Nyx says, suspicions confirmed. She had expected that to come later, but as ever, her youngest children surprise her.

**

Being at Grandma’s without Thanatos isn’t _bad_ , it’s just different. Hypnos feels guilty if he goes to see the sheep because most of the time Grandma has Thanatos to stay and help her cook and garden, but it’s just _him_ so he floats next to her in the kitchen to see what she is doing and maybe try to help with dinner. Pop had to leave because of Ma needing something or another, so it’s just them right now.

Hypnos loves Grandma. She is big and slow and stable, but she also moves so easy, like water. She says she’s from the ocean, though Hypnos has _no idea_ what an ocean is. She says it’s a very big body of water, and sometimes he likes to daydream what that must look like—water that stretches forever and ever and ever and—

“Hypnos,” Grandma says, “I need you to wash these.”

“Okay,” Hypnos says happily, because he was a little worried she was going to ask him to cut something. He’s a little scared of knives. Besides, _Thanatos_ cuts everything much better than him. Thanatos turns the apples into rabbits and towers and flowers, which Hypnos _definitely_ can't do.

“You know,” he tells her as he drops the little radishes into the basin, watches them bob up and float around and look kind of like very weird turtles, “I had a dream during my nap!”

“Did you?” Grandma asks. “And what happened?”

Hypnos pushes the little radishes around. Maybe they are migrating—a very fancy word for animals moving from one place to another that Pop taught him to talk about birds, which Hypnos also likes—maybe the little radish turtles are _migrating_ , and they need to get all the dirt off before they get to their new home. He pushes a few under the water—they’re turtles, not _tortoises_ , so they can swim, not like Cabbage, who _cannot_ swim. Pop has been very, very clear on that.

“I don’t really remember but I remember that there was food and it was a little late and then Thanatos showed up! Wouldn’t it be nice if Thanatos came?”

“It would,” Grandma says, and takes some of the turtles that did not drown and are nice and clean now.

Radishes.

Grandma cuts the green leaves off and sets them aside. They’ll go in the soup and they’ll taste yummy but Thanatos likes them better than Hypnos.

“He’s really worried about Zagreus though,” Hypnos says. “So maybe he won’t come.”

He drowns— _helps_ —some more of the turtles. Radishes.

“Your twin is full of surprises,” Grandma says. “I’d trust my dream if I were you.”

“Maybe I will!” Hypnos says, then uses both hands to shove the rest of the turtle radishes under the water.

**

“Hey, Boss,” Hermes says and Hades only barely catches his groan because his nephew only uses _Boss_ when he is about to make an absolutely absurd, nonsensical, _stupid_ request. Hades considers not looking up from the contract he is reading, but unfortunately he also knows from far too much experience that will not actually stop Hermes from making his request.

He sighs and looks up. Hermes is before the desk, Thanatos just a little behind him.

“Yes?” Hades asks. Better to just get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Need to kill you, won’t take a second.” Hermes is grinning, his slight one that promises the most mischief, eyes sparkling. “Or you kill yourself, whichever’s easiest really!”

“Absolutely not,” Hades says.

“Ah, well, I mean, it’s you or Zagreus, Thanatos just started noticing people can die, and you know, I just wanted to reassure him that gods that can die come back, he doesn’t need to worry, thought we’d ask you, you know, don’t much _care_ for killing two year olds, but—”

“Hermes,” Hades says, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

He opens them, looks at Thanatos. Thanatos is still worrying the edge of his chiton, shoulders curled in.

This _would_ explain why he has been following Zagreus all week, a state of affairs that Hades would very much prefer resolved.

“And this would reassure you?” Hades asks Thanatos, _not_ Hermes.

Hermes, wonder of wonders, does not answer for his son. But then, Hermes seems to understand, somehow, when Thanatos needs to speak for himself, a trick that Hades still does not quite understand how he does.

Thanatos twists the edge of his chiton, shifting on his feet and not willing to make eye contact. He rarely does. Then, finally:

“Yes.”

Thanatos, unlike his father, does not lie. Hades is not sure he’s capable of it.

“Very well,” Hades sighs, rising from his desk. Perhaps once this is resolved he’ll be able to actually get some work done.

**

“Oh,” Thanatos says. And then, “Thank you.”

Hades shakes the last of the Styx off as he climbs out of the pool.

“You are welcome,” he says, gruff, but there is a great deal of relief on Thanatos’ face that he finds hard to fully put aside.

“Thanks, Uncle,” Hermes says later and once Hades settles at his desk, he finds lavender and a bottle of nectar, both of which should very not be here but, when he is quite certain no one is looking, he still stows away in a drawer for later.

**

“That’s so many bowls,” Hypnos says. “There’s only me and you, Granma.”

“Mhm,” Granma says, ladling soup into a third and fourth bowl and setting them at the table with the fruit and bread and cheese.

“I think we shouldn’t have made so much soup,” Hypnos tells her, helpfully. “We can’t eat it all by ourselves.”

“Mhm,” Granma says, taking a seat. “Bring the spoons.”

Hypnos does. He gets two, because there’s only two of them, but then he hesitates, because Granma set out _four_ bowls, so maybe he should get two more and he’s considering this, the conundrum of needing more or less spoons, when there’s a breeze and the shadows in the room all bend just a bit and then there is Pop and Thanatos both, Thanatos holding Mort and his sheepskin and Hypnos drops all the spoons and flies over to pull Thanatos into a hug.

“You came!” he says. “Just like my dream!”

“Yes?” Thanatos asks.

“Go put your things down before dinner gets cold,” Granma says. “Hermes, if you could get the spoons.”

“Sure thing, Ma,” Pop says, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he goes to pick up all the spoons that Hypnos dropped, but Hypnos feels guilty only a moment, because Thanatos is here and he thought Thanatos wasn’t going to come and it was going to be _miserable_ , because Granma’s house is _best_ when it’s all of them. Or maybe not miserable, but not as fun, and isn’t that what matters most?

Pop always says they should try to have as much fun as they can.

“Is everything okay at the House now?” Hypnos asks as Thanatos sets Mort and his sheepskin on the bed.

“Yes,” Thanatos says, smiling just a little. “Lord Hades died.”

“ _What_ ,” Hypnos says. “How!”

“Pop will tell you,” Thanatos says. “Maybe. Lord Hades is okay now.”

Hypnos thinks he is going to explode from excitement. This is amazing. Lord Hades _died_ but now he’s _not dead_ , and Hypnos _missed it_ , why didn’t he stay home _too_ , this is unfair and amazing and wonderful. He grabs hold of Thanatos’ wrist and drags him back to the table, where Pop and Granma are already eating _without them_ , very rude, impolite, but Hypnos doesn’t care, he _needs to know_ what happened.

“Pop, ThanatossaidLordHadesdiedbutnowhe’sbackwhat—”

“Eat your dinner first,” Granma says and Hypnos very nearly vibrates out of _existence_.

Thanatos grins, because Thanatos is a _jerk_ , no one believes Hypnos, but Thanatos is full of tricks, just like Pop, and sits at the table.

Hypnos hangs in the air just a moment longer, then sighs and sits down and gets his soup and some bread and considers how amazing and wonderful it is that his twin is here and also okay again and _also_ had an _adventure_ without Hypnos.

Next time. Next time for sure, if Thanatos doesn’t want to come Hypnos will _definitely_ stay too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hypnos likes to make lists and most of them are for Thanatos but he has one for himself, because Granma said maybe he should make one for himself, too. It has all kinds of things he would like to do. Like own a sheep, a real sheep and not just the doll Mother made for him, or to ride the Lernean Hydra. And at the very top, the very first thing on the list, is to meet the Bull of Minos.
> 
>  _Asterius_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading so far <3 i'm glad people are digging this kind of weird idea

Hypnos likes to make lists. He mostly makes them for Thanatos, because Thanatos is always worrying about what he might forget even though Hypnos doesn’t think Thanatos has ever actually forgotten anything.

Maybe he hasn’t forgotten anything because of Hypnos’ lists? Hypnos isn’t sure. Maybe he should ask, but he will probably forget, and really, it’s not that important.

Hypnos likes to make lists and most of them are for Thanatos but he has one for himself, because Granma said maybe he should make one for himself, too. It has all kinds of things he would like to do. Like own a sheep, a _real_ sheep and not just the doll Mother made for him, or to ride the Lernean Hydra. And at the very top, the very first thing on the list, is to meet the Bull of Minos.

 _Asterius_.

Hypnos has dreams they will meet Asterius one day, but he’s not sure they’re like some of his dreams that come true. He has dreams that come true and dreams that don’t, and he is _pretty sure_ the dreams where they meet the Bull of Minos are the latter. Mostly because his dreams that come true usually come true _very_ soon and he's dreamed about meeting the Bull of Minos since he was _six_ , when he first saw a poster of him.

(He also has dreams that aren’t his, travels through dreams when he sleeps. Once he met Pop while he was sleeping, and then Pop sat him down and had a very long talk about all kinds of things that Hypnos still doesn’t quite grasp, but involved a lot of explaining mortals are _weird_ and if Hypnos happened to see something weird, he could always just talk to Pop about it, which _obviously_. Sometimes Pop explains the obvious, but that’s okay. Like that one time Pop said it's okay to tell his stories. _Obviously_ it's okay, Hypnos tells the _best_ stories, even _Hades_ listens to his stories which basically makes him as good as Orpheus. _Better_. )

The thing is, of course, meeting the Bull of Minos would mean going to the Stadium.

Which means Zagreus couldn’t go. And _maybe_ Thanatos wouldn’t want to go because Thanatos hates lots of crowds. But he likes food. So maybe he would go.

Charon and Megaera would definitely want to go, but they're always _busy_ with _work_ , because they're _old_. Hypnos cannot imagine anything more boring. Megaera always says one day _he’ll_ have to work, too, which makes Hypnos think about pretending to be sick for the rest of _forever_. Maybe he'll just find a good corner and nap instead.

In any case, all of that aside, as much as Hypnos _wants_ to meet Asterius, he makes do with posters and fliers and the little newsletter published by the Good Shade. It wouldn’t be any _fun_ to go without his family even if he _did_ get to meet Asterius, and his dream has his family so that's _obviously_ impossible.

**

“You know,” Hermes says and Hades tries not to sigh.

He is _trying_ , with very little success, to show Zagreus how to properly hold a sword. It is driving Hades half mad, but he has attempted to remind himself that even if Zagreus has no skill, he at least has enthusiasm. If his flighty nephew can manage to never yell at either of his sons despite the amount of nonsense they both very much have gotten up to over the last nine years, Hades most _certainly_ can do the same.

(He is, surprisingly, less angry this way.)

“Hi, Hermes!” Zagreus says, immediately dropping the practice sword to run over and give Hermes a hug, which is _not_ very princely behaviour at all but _is_ very in keeping with Zagreus.

Hades debates scolding him for it, but Zagreus’ smile is warm.

(Hades would rather the warmth. It is what Persephone would want.)

“What do I know?” Hades asks instead, because that, at least, he will be able to voice very vocal displeasure about.

Hermes ruffles Zagreus’ hair as Zagreus steps back.

“You _know_ ,” Hermes says, “it’s _almost_ the twins' tenth birthday.”

“Is it.”

“Yes!” Zagreus says helpfully. “I’m gonna give—”

“Going to,” Hades corrects.

“ _Going to_ ,” Zagreus repeats, putting on a voice that he must think sounds like Hades and which Hades does not very much like; Zagreus beams at him when he frowns, then keeps going. “I’m _going_ to give Thanatos a _bug house_ and Hypnos _three_ new storybooks and Chef is going to help us make _cookies_ shaped like _mice_ and _sheep_ and it’s going to be _amazing_.”

Hades knew this, though not the part about cookies. He approved the requests for them.

(Zagreus asked and, in exchange, has— _mostly_ —done a commendable job at keeping his room… _less_ disorganized.)

“Wow,” Hermes says. “That’s all brilliant, Zagreus. They’re lucky you’re their half brother. Do you know what _else_ would be lucky?”

“What?” Zagreus asks and Hades knows, even before his _blasted_ nephew opens his mouth, that this is the _entire_ reason Hermes came to find him _with_ Zagreus and did not simply find Hades at his desk, he knows it, he is going to _hate_ this—

“Why, if we all went to the Stadium. Both the twins haven’t been, and I’m _sure_ they’d want their little brother to come.”

Zagreus’ eyes go wide; Zagreus immediately swivels to look at Hades.

“P— _Father_ , _**please** ,_ pretty please, pretty pretty please with extra honey and lots of-of-of I don’t know, Father, please-please-please-please-please, I’ll clean my room _every day_ and be better at swords and give Cerberus a bath and clean his teeth all of them _please_ —”

Hades looks at his son.

He looks at Hermes, who looks _deeply_ pleased with himself.

He considers strangling his nephew.

(Not in front of Zagreus.)

“Have to keep it a secret, though,” Hermes adds. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“ _Please_ ,” Zagreus begs, grabbing onto Hades.

This is pointless frivolity. It is one thing to spend time in the House, where he can, with ease, be reached, where he can attend to work that needs doing while also spending time with Zagreus. There is no _work_ to be done at the Stadium. It is a waste of time for those shades who have nothing _but_ time, which Hades very much does not.

“They’re only ten once,” Hermes adds, and isn’t that the _problem_.

All these _onces_.

But Hermes is not _wrong_ , which is what is possibly the _worst_ of all of this. Zagreus will only be a child once; there will only be one time that is his _first_ time at the Stadium. There will only be _once_ that Zagreus will have this moment, even if his mother is not here.

(Surely this is what Persephone would want. He can very nearly imagine her saying as much— _oh, what’s a little fun now and then_?)

“Fine,” Hades says. “Since it is their birthday.”

“ _ **Yes**_ ,” Zagreus shouts, letting go and half racing around the room, absolutely unprincely, but full of too much delight to possibly contain himself and Hades...

(he wonders if, another life, he might have been the same in his youth. Been able to be. If not for—)

...Hades sighs.

“You’re not half bad at this when you’re bullied into it,” Hermes says, grinning.

“Do you not have _work_?” Hades asks.

“Sure,” Hermes says. “But family’s more important, don’t you think?”

He winks, and there is a ripple of a breeze as he leaves well before Hades can answer.

Hades watches as Zagreus celebrates, grabbing his sword back up and, attempting, with limited success, to be better at swords.

(Perhaps it is better, this. It is not a prince, it is not duty and rules and everything that Hades learned as a child but his childhood was not. He would not wish that for Zagreus.

Perhaps Hermes is right, their mothers. Zagreus is so brilliant.)

"Here," Hades says. "Be still, your grip is wrong. Like this."

**

Megaera does not, on the whole, have very much to do with her foster brothers. They are all much younger than her and she refuses to ever babysit again—she did that enough when _she_ was a child with Tisiphone and Alecto. She has a job that she takes pride in, that helps the House, that repays Mother Nyx even though Nyx insists that there's no debt Megaera needs to repay. She isn’t _rude_ to her foster brothers, because that would be unprofessional and pointless, but she wouldn’t say she’s _close_ with them either.

Yet somehow all three of them are absolutely devoted to her, in their own ways. It's both flattering _and_ infuriating. Sometimes she'd like to be left alone, not have one of them show up at her elbow in the lounge while she talks to Dusa.

Yet she would prefer _any_ of them to Hermes showing up.

"Oh, uh, hi! Lord Hermes!!" Dusa says, flustered and nearly knocking over her drink. Megaera takes her time turning to find the twins' father—Megaera still isn't sure the point of fathers—sitting across the table, chin in one hand and that smile that suggests she's about to get dragged into something she doesn't want. She still hasn't entirely forgiven him the mess with Orpheus; if Nyx hadn't said it was for the best, she'd beat his face in, Olympian or not.

Maybe _because_ he's an Olympian. All the Olympians seem to need their face beat in once, except maybe Aphrodite.

The point is, Megaera might like her foster brothers, but she does _not_ like the twins' father. She has no idea why Nyx _or_ Lord Hades give him such free reign when she's _certain_ he's the source of most the contraband in the Underworld, too.

"Hope I'm not interrupting you ladies," Hermes says, bright and perfectly aware he's interrupting. "Just have a quick favour to ask you, Megaera."

"No," Megaera says; it makes Dusa laugh, that nervous laugh that suggests she's moments from fleeing. Megaera takes a sip of her drink.

"Oh, well, shame that, Dusa, say, I suddenly have an extra ticket for the Stadium for the twins' birthday, you wouldn't _happen_ to know anyone who might want it, would you?"

"Oh, I don't know, I mean, it's a little short notice haha, don't you think but, um, maybe, I mean," Dusa sputters.

Megaera considers strangling Hermes.

She loves the Stadium. She doesn't get to go as often as she wants, obviously, who does, the work never ends down here, but it is one of her personal delights and she might, _very rarely_ , indulge in a couple bets here or there. Hermes _knows_ this, of course—who else would be willing to risk running a gambling ring under Lord Hades’ nose?

Gambling isn’t _illegal_ , but Megaera is very sure it’s something that Lord Hades wouldn’t approve of, _either._

Now she either admits she'd be willing to go, or she loses out. She considers Hermes, who is watching Dusa slowly make her way through a list of potential candidates, and considers once again how, if she had her way, he'd be banned from the House.

Except her foster brothers all adore him.

One good strangle would do Hermes good, but she wouldn’t _ban_ him.

"I'll go," Megaera says.

"Oh?" Dusa says entirely differently than the way Hermes says, "Oh?"

Hypnos would want her to go; he clings to everyone almost as much as Zagreus. And if it's for their birthday—

"Well, if you insist," Hermes says. "Glad to get _that_ sorted."

He grins, winks, and then he's gone.

"I'm going to kill him," Megaera tells Dusa; Dusa laughs, nervous; bless her, but she has no idea if Megaera is serious. Megaera lets her think it's a joke.

But she will. At least once.

**

"Are you sure?" Hermes asks, one last time, because while Hypnos likes surprises, Thanatos never has. Just as Thanatos hates noise and crowds. Just as there's a lot of things that mean the Stadium would not be a place Hermes would ever just _take_ Thanatos, his quiet end of a son.

"Yes," Thanatos says. He hesitates a moment; Hermes waits for him to sort through words.

(How long it took to realize Hypnos spills words, but Thanatos _unearths_ them.)

"I want to go," Thanatos finally says. "At least one time."

"If it gets too much," Hermes starts, then stops as Thanatos snorts with a little eye roll. Hermes smiles and doesn’t look _too_ closely at a feeling that his sons are, despite growing so _slowly_ , still growing faster than Hermes really wants.

(He has no idea how his mother managed with him—he all but skipped through childhood.)

"I know," Thanatos says.

"Well, good."

"And then we'll try?"

"Yes," Hermes says, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to his head. "I promised, didn't I?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's a _persona_ ," Hypnos says, then proceeds to catch his little brother up on all the _nuances_ of the Stadium fights, the longest running drama in _all_ creation. Hypnos is quite certain most of it is lost on him, but he tries anyway.
> 
> "Kayfabe sounds dumb," Zagreus says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this chapter had a title it would be "Hypnos Very Very Good Day Because Hypnos Deserves So Much More Than The Game Gave Him" but that's too long and i don't do chapter titles
> 
> enjoy <3

Hypnos would like to say he woke bright and early. It’s their _birthday_ , it’s their _tenth_ birthday, which is maybe special? It’s the first time they have _two digits_ in their age, which is still really young but it’s _older_ , too. Hypnos wakes up what he _thinks_ is bright and early, because he always wakes up before Thanatos, _especially_ on their birthday, but—

Thanatos is already up and dressed and he has a still steaming hunk of bread in hand and is eating it, floating in the air and watching Hypnos sleep.

“ _Thanatos_ ,” Hypnos yelps, jerking upright. “Oh no, I’m _late_ for breakfast.”

“Yes,” Thanatos says.

Hypnos flies out of bed, grabs for clothes. He tries to get dressed but then he thinks of his hair, and he tries to fix that too, but then he realizes he needs to wash his face, so he starts to do _that_ , and then he realizes Thanatos is grinning, that little grin that’s _just_ like Pop’s and Hypnos stops, half dressed and comb stuck in his hair and face wet and squints at his twin.

“Did you just _lie_?” Hypnos asks. He can’t imagine anything more-more-more _unbelievable_ , but it also makes his heart leap into his throat.

All his dreams where he gets to meet Asterius, Thanatos _lies_.

Thanatos takes another bite of his chunk of bread.

“Maybe,” he says, grin getting just a little wider. “We _will_ be late if you keep staring.”

“Late for what?” Hypnos asks. He pulls the comb out of his hair, shakes his wings a little and makes sure there’s no loose feathers.

“A surprise,” Thanatos says.

**

“Your hair looks fine, my king,” Asterius says for what must be the sixtieth time.

“But does it, my friend?” Theseus asks.

Asterius snorts. He supposes he can forgive Theseus the anxiety. It is not every day—indeed, there has never been a day that Asterius knows of—that the King of the Underworld and his family have actually come to the Stadium.

“Yes,” Asterius says.

**

“ _Really_?” Hypnos asks.

“It is your birthday,” Mother says. “Why would we lie?”

“But Thanatos hates noise and Charon and Megaera always have work and Zagreus and Lord Hades and—”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want to go?” Pop asks.

“No!” Hypnos shouts, then he laughs, once, then again, and pinches himself, because this is like his dream, but it’s real? “Am I awake?”

Thanatos punches him in the arm, which _hurts_ , so yes, he is, but also: “ _Ow_.”

Thanatos shrugs.

“I want to see one time,” Thanatos says.

“Can we _go_?” Zagreus asks.

“Not without your father,” Mother says, and Hypnos has to sit down, because it’s too much, it really _is_ everyone, all of them, the whole family, going to the _Stadium_ for their _tenth birthday_ and he’s going to get to meet the Bull of Minos later and he thinks, just maybe—

“I’m going to faint,” Hypnos says, and then he does.

He wakes up being carried on Pop’s back in Elysium. Hypnos has seen Elysium a lot, but Zagreus hasn’t, and Zagreus is running ahead and running back and leaving little ashen footprints while Hades is leaving bigger ones and walking far more slowly. There are a lot of shades because a day at the games is _a day_ , there will be _all kinds_ of events. Megaera and Mother are talking and Charon has joined them at some point, it really is _everyone_.

“You woke up,” Thanatos says, because Thanatos _always_ states the obvious.

“Yes,” Hypnos says, and he beams at his twin. “I can float, let me go,” he adds to Pop.

Pop laughs, but he does, and Hypnos wobbles a little but then he gets himself steady.

He’s seen the Stadium from outside a thousand times, because Charon likes to work here sometimes, but he’s never gotten to go _in_ and it looks very different right now too, when everyone is still arriving. There’s so many shades milling about, and the stalls that are usually quiet are very full and very loud and there are _new_ stalls, and Hades has grabbed Zagreus by the hand so he doesn’t disappear in the crowd and Thanatos looks like maybe he wants to grab Pop’s hand but he hasn’t, he’s just staying close, and Hypnos wants to look at _everything_. There are banners and posters and flyers and _hats_ and little dolls and _big_ dolls and he floats through the shades, peering at everything and so excited he thinks he _might_ manage to vibrate to a whole new plane of existence. He doesn’t even know what half these snack foods _are_ , he’s never _seen_ so many masks because there are plays and _actors_ , and there are _toys_ , too. It’s like every dream he ever had but a _million_ times better, which is a number that he has heard once and he doesn’t know how many it is but it must be a _lot_. It’s the most wonderful magical thing he’s ever seen, and there are so many _emotions_ and _thoughts_ running loose, all of them sparking brilliant and showers of light, fizzing in the air and showering the whole crowd in dazzling colors that keeps shifting and—

“Wait for the rest of us,” Pop says, grabbing him by the back of his cloak and he isn’t even _mad_ , he’d _forgotten_ that his family is even here, how _could_ he.

“ _Didyousee_ ,” Hypnos starts and then he keeps going, trying to explain _all of it_ even though of course Pop saw. Pop laughs, but he doesn’t interrupt as he leads Hypnos back to the group, just asks if Hypnos noticed _that_ candied fruit or _this_ Asterius doll that _no_ , Hypnos _did not_ , and by the time they get back to the others Hypnos has a doll and a banner and a candied apple that looks a very poisonous color but tastes _amazing_ , and little bull horns on a headband and he thinks he’s never ever been more awake while awake ever in his entire life.

“ _Thanatos_ ,” Hypnos says, latching onto his twin and shoving the candied apple into his hand. “You have to try it, you’ll love it, it’s sweet and sour and weird!”

“...yes,” Thanatos says, and tries it. Pop puts an arm around Thanatos’ shoulders and Thanatos immediately leans into him and _oh no_ , Hypnos knew it, the crowds.

“Are you okay? Do you need to go home?”

“No,” Thanatos says, “but I’m keeping this,” and he takes another bite of the apple.

**

They get to their seats, eventually, with more food and more banners and Thanatos looking horrified about the few seats that are in the _middle_ of the arena. Zagreus has a hat and a toy spear and his own banner, too, and is at _least_ as excited as Megaera is pretending she isn’t.

Megaera is _really_ excited—her emotions and thoughts keep flaring bright pink and bubbling all around her. Hypnos doesn’t point it out because he doesn’t want to get punched.

“Oh Mother’s _stars_ ,” Hypnos says, seeing a bit of red in the sea of blues and greens of the shades. “Is that the _Good Shade_?”

“Who?” Zagreus asks.

“The Good Shade! They write the newsletter! With all the events and the play by plays, I can’t— _excuse me_!” The Good Shade is _almost_ as amazing as the Bull of Minos, Hypnos cannot _believe_ his luck as he flits through and around shades. “Hi! Hi, you don’t know me, I’m a big fan!”

“Me too!” Zagreus says, somehow having kept up.

“Yes!” Hypnos says, then “Wait, you didn’t even know who they were!”

The Good Shade flushes, looking very shy, but then they grin, big, so maybe it’s okay.

“Come sit with us!” Zagreus says.

“Oh, yes, that’s a great idea, you should, it’s the best seats!” Hypnos says and then, when the Good Shade smiles, he grabs onto a sleeve and tugs the Good Shade but not a _real_ tug, so that if they don’t want to come they won’t.

“Yes!” Zagreus says, doing a lap around them.

Which is how, on what is an _already_ incredible day, Hypnos gets to not only _meet_ his other favourite Stadium celebrity, but _sit with them_. He might faint again.

“Try this!” Zagreus says, offering fried chlams and boiled chrustaceans to the Good Shade once they’re back at the seats.

“I am not buying you more food,” Hades tells Zagreus.

“The fire eating bone hydras are _first_ ,” Hypnos tells Thanatos where he’s tucked between Mother and Pop, and Thanatos perks up, just a bit, because Thanatos _loves_ hydras. All of them, but _especially_ bone hydras.

“How fortunate,” Mother says, and goes back to discussing what sounds like _money_ with Megaera and Pop and Charon. Hypnos doesn’t see how money is more fun than the preparations taking place in the arena below, but he doesn’t point that out to them. He turns back around, sitting between Zagreus and the Good Shade, and listens as Hades answers Zagreus’ questions about the different events they will get to see. He tries one of the boiled chrustaceans for himself.

It tastes amazing, just like everything else.

Hypnos leans on the edge of the arena, chin in hands, and grins as he watches shades finish filing in, watches emotions spark and dazzle across the air, feels all the joy and delight and _magic_ humming through everyone as they wait for the games and shows and _everything_ to start. It’s as good as a dream, better: it’s a dream made real and the day has really only just begun.

**

There are the bone hydras that eat fire, and then there are contortionists and a high wire act. There is a comedy that Hypnos doesn't really get but makes all the adults laugh even Hades, a chuckle that he tries to smother. There is a phoenix show and chariot races and several dances and then a tragedy that makes _everyone_ sad, and Orpheus plays some songs with Eurydice which are very pretty and make Thanatos fall asleep. Orpheus even waves a little and Pop waves back, his little flick that's almost but not quite a salute.

The fights, of course, are last.

_Everyone_ knows the story of Theseus and Asterius—how the King of Athens arrived in the Underworld and immediately fought his way from Elysium to the depths of Tartarus to find the Bull of Minos. He even fought _Achilles_ for Asterius. No one knows why he did it, or even why Hades allowed Asterius to stay in Elysium, but _everyone_ knows there's no more unbreakable duo than Theseus and Asterius. Not even Achilles and Patroclus are as unbreakable, because Achilles is kind of dumb if he gets mad and is _extremely_ overrated in Hypnos' opinion. Hypnos is an _expert_ on the heroes of Elysium.

"He looks like a tool," Zagreus says as soon as he sees Theseus.

"It's a _persona_ ," Hypnos says, then proceeds to catch his little brother up on all the _nuances_ of the Stadium fights, the longest running drama in _all_ creation. Hypnos is quite certain most of it is lost on him, but he tries anyway.

"Kayfabe sounds dumb," Zagreus says.

"It is a different kind of drama," Hades tells him, gruff, and Zagreus looks back at the arena with new consideration; Hypnos wants to hug Hades but decides it's better not to.

Anyway, Asterius has taken the field, too.

"Look how _noble_ he is," Hypnos sighs, half hanging off the edge of the arena. The Good Shade smiles big, because the Good Shade also likes Asterius best.

"What _is_ he?" Zagreus asks, because Zagreus has never seen a bull _or_ a cow.

"Perfect," Hypnos says. "Shh."

Zagreus pouts and crosses his arms, but he goes quiet and finally, _finally_ , they get to watch the fights.

**

The back halls of the Stadium are very different and a little quieter. There are shades and warriors and performers all cleaning up and rushing about. It’s just Mother and Hermes and Zagreus—Thanatos is still sleeping half on Pop’s lap, perfectly dead to the world, Hades did not want to come, Charon said he needed to go back to work, and Megaera _hates_ Theseus.

Hypnos is pretty sure he’s going to faint. Again. He’s never been so excited in his entire _life_. He will never be this excited ever again, never ever ever. He clutches his doll and makes himself breathe.

“Theseus is going to call us _fiends_ ,” Hypnos repeats to Zagreus again. “For his character.”

“I _knooooow_ ,” Zagreus says, but his laurels keep sparking and he’s set at _least_ two rugs they stepped across on fire. “You said.”

“Children,” Mother says, then a shade opens the door, and there they are, Theseus and Asterius. Theseus is short and Asterius is huge and they both have the blue laurels of _heroes_ , Asterius’ braided into his hair.

“Hello, short ones,” Asterius says.

“What fiends are these in your company, Lady Nyx?” Theseus says. “Shall we dispose of them for you?”

“I’m not _short_ ,” Zagreus cries, even though he is _very_ short.

Hypnos can’t say anything—his chest is too tight and he feels dizzy and he’s _definitely_ going to faint again but it’s amazing, it’s perfect, it’s like all his dreams of getting to meet Asterius but _better_ , he’s so _tall_ and big and strong and his eyes are so gentle and his ears are so _cute_ and and and—

“My children,” Mother says.

“Surely my lady jests!” Theseus cries.

—he can’t help it, he starts crying, clutching his Asterius doll tightly to his chest, but he’s laughing too, because it’s _perfect._

Eventually, he stops cry-laughing and he gets _both_ their autographs and even manages to convince Theseus Zagreus isn’t a _real_ fiend, and Zagreus calls Theseus _stupid_ but gets his autograph, too. Theseus and Asterius have to sign _other_ autographs, outside, but still, Hypnos got to meet them both, for a little while.

They meet back up with the rest of the family and head home, together. There are cake and cookies waiting for them, though Hypnos doesn’t think he could eat a single other bite of food if he tried.

The exhaustion hits almost as soon as he sits down at the table, and he wishes he had thought to sneak a nap in between some of the events. He doesn’t want the day to end.

“Good birthday?” Pop asks when Hypnos wakes in his arms, being carried to bed.

“The _best_ ,” Hypnos says. “But Than—”

“Don’t worry,” Pop says. “He’ll have something special, too. More his speed.”

“Good,” Hypnos says, and goes back to sleep.

He's going to have the _best_ dreams.

**

“Ready?” Hermes asks.

“Yes,” Thanatos says. He's restless, the kind Hermes is very familiar with—excitement.

“Just like we practiced,” Hermes says, holding out a hand.

Thanatos takes it, steps—

—and they are in Elysium, on a ledge that looks down over all the Underworld, a fall that goes on and on and _on_. It’s a dizzy thing, the way Thanatos moves, but it is _also_ perfect for doing things they really shouldn’t.

Nyx needs time to refind Thanatos when he steps.

(It’s not _forbidden_ , what they're doing, only, well, there are _quite_ a lot of estrangements everywhere these days and Nyx likely would _not_ approve. Thanatos asked, though.)

Hermes grabs his caduceus from the air, staff warm and familiar in his hand. He taps it against the ground, once; time ripples out from them, further confusing things if anyone tries to look for them. Taps it a second time, this time the sound rings, jangles, a clatter that _announces_ but also _leads_. He keeps his grip on Thanatos’ hand firm, then steps off the ledge.

(Blood and void and stars and suns, but he _hates_ falling.)

Thanatos follows, shape trailing darkness and starlight; he is concentrating when Hermes glances, hand tight on Hermes’ hand, but he’s smiling, too, wide and brilliant because this is what Thanatos _is_ —just as his brother is all dreams and magic, Thanatos is a _fall_ , the last and most final of all Nyx’s endings.

Hermes falls, waiting, and tries to focus on Thanatos’ brilliant joy, the starfire a blazing trail from his son’s wings, until—

“ _Here_ ,” Thanatos says, wings flaring broad and wide and _massive_ , yet still smaller than they will be; Hermes drags himself to a stop too, catches himself on a bit of air, a bit of spilling starfire, then taps the butt of the caduceus a third time, final time, but it’s not a _tap_ so much as jamming the staff into the gap between _now_ and _then_ , _here_ and _there_ , causing time to bloom thick in reality’s gap, forcing it larger as Thanatos grabs onto it, _pulls_ and _pushes_ , forces open and

they spill _through_ the Underworld, through Erebus, past all of that to an ocean all glimmering possibility that Hermes has only heard of, not seen, a place and _being_ well beyond time and space, but not time _and_ space _together_.

Not many people send messages to Chaos, obviously.

They tumble onto one of the bits of marble tile and columns that dot the expanse, both of them laughing.

“It worked!” Thanatos says, picking himself back up.

“Bit surprised myself,” Hermes says, because he is. He looks up—the stars here shift and move and _change_ ; not Nyx’s stars at all. They aren’t even _stars_. They are _maybes_ , like all the maybes that used to and still sometimes spill off Thanatos’ tongue.

Hermes has never gotten lost before, but he is absolutely certain he’d get lost here in no time at all, except, of course, he’s not here alone.

“It’s beautiful,” Thanatos says. He’s looking down at the ocean lapping at the edges of their manufactured island, crouching and a hand reaching to touch. His wings are still glimmering, just a bit, those last shooting star glimmers of heat burning away, and Hermes—

(He’s a god, supposedly, but he still has no idea how he managed to have any part in Thanatos’ creation. In Hypnos’. Both of them are so much, both of them so brilliant, both of them slow and quick and everything in between. Hermes is a thief, a liar, and more broken shadows than he lets on; both of his children are _true_ , whole, _stars_.

He loves them; he would, if he had to, die for them, and he wouldn’t even die for his brother, as much as he loves Apollo.)

—Hermes smiles and pushes aside the exhaustion from a day that has stretched too long and not long enough.

It’s tiring, being a father. The most tiring thing he’s ever done.

(There’s only the once they get to be this age.)

“Is it what you hoped for?” Hermes asks, sitting down next to where Thanatos is crouched. He keeps his caduceus in hand and lays it next to him—there’s no light or shadow here that’s his, nowhere for him to store it for now.

“Yes,” Thanatos says. He sits too, then carefully sticks a foot in the water. He laughs light, gentle, as the ocean ripples, responds, spills out a billion possibilities, then drops his other in. They sit there, together, Thanatos kicking his feet in the water and watching chances form and die. “It’s… everything but not _everything_. It’s quieter.”

Hermes does _not_ stick his feet in the water. He _does_ have some self-preservation, despite what his mother and brother both think.

“Good,” Hermes says. He wraps an arm around Thanatos’ shoulders, careful of his wings, and leans his cheek against Thanatos’ head.

They sit together, out of time and space, and watch all the _mights_ ripple and swirl, promises that all, eventually, play out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hypnos takes off running towards Maia’s cave, then skips up into the air, flying.
> 
> “So when,” Ares asks, “were you going to mention you have a child?”
> 
> “Two,” Apollo corrects, grin very toothy now. “Twins.”
> 
> “I hate you,” Hermes says, pointing at Apollo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uncles unclES UNCLES!!!!!!
> 
> (and brothers o god brothers ;;;a;;;;)

It is not particularly often that Ares has need to seek Hermes out. Hermes is quite skilled at simply showing up when he is needed.

He is also very skilled at showing up when he is not needed, when he is an active annoyance, when it is the worst possible moment to appear.

(He also appears when he is not needed but the company is most welcome.

Hermes is kin, in the truest sense of the word.)

Ares supposes simply wanting to see his brother is not a particular need; it is only these last few years Hermes has been absent Olympus quite more often than he is already very absent. Ares has no wars that are quite ripe to harvest, no conflict he particularly desires to observe—an occurrence that is more common than much of his kin claim.

Seeing as attempting to track Hermes down is not unlike trying to find the exact moment sunlight turns to the shadow it casts—possible, if unenjoyably frustrating—Ares simply asks Apollo.

Ares is expecting this to require bribery of some kind.

He is not expecting Apollo to pause at the question, then smile, a thin razor sharp smile that means Ares very much is about to be a tool in some on going back and forth between the brothers.

“His mother’s,” Apollo says. “Do give Maia my best wishes.”

Ares raises an eyebrow.

He could simply not go; he does not very much like being used.

“Thank you,” Ares tells him. “Though I’m quite certain you are more than capable of conveying them yourself.”

It is not being used if it is a trip together.

“You know,” Apollo says, “I think I will.”

Ares could choose not to go, still, but as Apollo rises, Ares is very, very certain he wants to see what has brought a smile to his face. And visits to Maia are always best with company.

(It is always, _always_ interesting when Apollo decides to rise. Some of Ares favourite stories are from such occasions.)

“Wonderful,” Ares tells him.

**

Maia lives in a valley not so far away, ringed by mountains with a river that winds through it all. It is rich in cattle, rich in sheep and goats, and—much like its mistress oceanid and her son both—not moored in time particularly well.

It is quite lovely; fields ripple golden wheat ready to harvest that Ares can’t quite resist running his fingers through as they walk. He can make out indistinct laughter. Apollo is humming; Ares had considered telling him to quiet, if only to start an argument, but he is not feeling particularly argumentative.

(He had his argument with his lord father; he would much rather a little quiet and, eventually, a little mischief. It is why he wishes to see his more absent than usual brother.)

“Ah, there they are,” Apollo says as they leave wheat fields for wild grass and flocks of sheep.

Ares takes a moment longer to spot what Apollo has seen, then pauses. Hermes, yes, and the source of the shouting—a child, perhaps ten, perhaps eleven, attempting with mixed success to catch a sheep.

Apollo most certainly doesn’t stop; Ares quickens his step to catch back up.

“Hermes!” Apollo calls.

The two stop; Hermes goes extraordinarily still, wings tensing—all of him tensing, actually, and that is a black mood if Ares has ever seen one and aha, here is what Apollo wished to bring to light.

Because getting closer, it is much, _much_ easier to see the family resemblance with the child.

“Apollo,” Hermes says, smile brightly forced. “And Ares! What a surprise. What _are_ you doing way out here? Didn’t need to come all this way.”

“Nonsense,” Apollo says. “Ares wished to see you and I thought that seemed a fine idea, myself. You’ve been gone.”

“Oh!” the child says. This close, it is easier to spot the white wings—particularly as they flap in an excitement Ares has seen more than once from Hermes. “I know you! I had a dream you’d visit! You look a lot more boring, actually, in my dream you—”

“Hypnos,” Hermes interrupts. “Why are you really out here, the both of you?”

“I wished to see you,” Ares says, honest.

“And it couldn’t, I don’t know, wait?” Hermes asks.

“When we could simply come to you?” Apollo asks, starting to grin again.

“Pop,” Hypnos says, tugging on Hermes’ wrist, and _oh_ , yes, that would do it, wouldn’t it? “Pop, it’s okay, my dream—” Hypnos goes quiet as Hermes looks down at him, but he doesn’t tense, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do any of those things Ares would expect of a child when their father looks at them with the black mood thick around Hermes. Then Hypnos barrels on, perfectly unafraid, “It’s okay they’re our uncles, aren’t they? And we get to—”

“Hypnos,” Hermes says, once more, pulls his wrist free with a quick little tug, then places his hand on the side of Hypnos’ face. “Go home.”

“Home home?”

“No.”

“Okay!” Hypnos beams up at him, then waves at Apollo and Ares both. “Granma’s gonna make little apple tarts and there’s gonna be wine! I’ll see you there! Oh, I should tell Thanatos, we never get guests, this is gonna be so fun!”

Hypnos takes off running towards Maia’s cave, then skips up into the air, flying.

“So when,” Ares asks, “were you going to mention you have a child?”

“Two,” Apollo corrects, grin very toothy now. “Twins.”

“I hate you,” Hermes says, pointing at Apollo. “And you—” He stops as he looks at Ares, then lets his hand drop. He rubs his face, and ah, he _does_ look more tired.

“Why are you here?” Hermes asks again.

“I already told you,” Ares says.

“Not _you_.”

“You weren’t going to tell us,” Apollo says. “And I wanted to meet them.” He starts off for Maia’s cave, leaving Ares and Hermes both, whistling.

**

There are two—Hypnos, whom Ares already met, and Thanatos.

“Maia,” Ares greets, and kisses both her cheeks. Maia smiles and, as promised, the table is already set with apple tarts and wine and a variety of other fruit, some of which have been cut and rearranged into small birds and other fauna.

“Ares, it’s always good to see you,” Maia says.

(Ares is very fond of Maia. He spent a not insignificant part of his youth here, at her table.)

Ares takes a seat at the table. Hypnos is regaling Apollo with the details of his dream, which seems—very extensive; Apollo is listening, still smiling. Hermes has mostly resigned himself to defeat, the horse rather having left the stable by this point. Ares could have pointed out there is very little under the sky that Apollo does not notice, and less any of them can truly hide from their brother, but he does not much want to add salt to the wound.

“Hey, Ma,” Hermes says, then takes the last seat, next to Thanatos.

Thanatos is being very, very quiet. He has quite large wings at his back, glowing soft, and he is not looking at anyone in particular, busying himself it seems with turning an apple into… something.

(“He’s quiet,” Hermes said on the way back. “Don’t take it personally.”)

Ares helps himself to the table; Maia is an excellent cook, and as ever, her apple tarts a delight. He speaks with Maia a little, about her garden, about the harvest—both his and her own—and pays half a mind to Hypnos' chatter.

(To how Hermes is beginning to relax, a smile starting to return to his features as he listens to Hypnos spiral very far from dreams to an equally detailed tale of how he managed— _all by himself_ —to rescue a sheep that got stuck, as Hermes helps Thanatos with a particularly tricky bit of knife work for what, it seems, is a swan.)

It is all quite cozy, a word Ares has very little use of typically, but he is not sure there’s another that fits the atmosphere—he is not much of a poet, himself. Hypnos begins to yawn, wide jaw cracking things; Thanatos has already leaned into Hermes’ side and fallen asleep, half tucked within his own very broad wings, and Maia eventually declares the twins be put to bed for their noontime nap.

It is not what Ares was expecting to find, certainly not mischief, but he cannot say he minds overmuch, nor that he was made Apollo’s excuse to come and see.

**

“Don’t mention them,” Hermes says while the twins sleep.

Apollo gives Hermes a look like he is an idiot.

Hermes scowls at him, but at least Ares gets it.

“Why would we?” Ares asks. “Nevertheless, your secret is quite safe with us.”

“And don’t—they might mention some things, people. In the Underworld.”

“Yes,” Apollo says. “They will, and we won’t mention those either. Are you finished?”

“You’re awful,” Hermes tells him.

“So I’ve been told,” Apollo says, grinning again.

(Apollo is, but he’s—

Hermes has no idea what to do with dreams as prophecy, not really. Hermes doesn’t really pay attention to the prophecies he hands out, because he doesn’t actually care to know the future, but Hypnos seems so tangled up in dream, in sleep, in all those things and Hermes has no idea what to tell him. And it’s not like Ma’s that kind of dreaming, not really—she’s much deeper. He’s grateful; now he can just _ask_ Apollo to help.)

“Possibly the worst of us,” Ares comments, which steals Apollo’s grin, then those two are at it, round and round about which one of them is actually worse than the other, as if they aren’t both perfectly aware it’s neither of them and likely one of their parents.

(The one they share.)

“Boys,” Ma says, silencing them both. “If you’re going to fight, at least go outside.”

Apollo and Ares stop, hiding smirks and pretending sullenness, but they still share their wine, and Hermes is...

He’s glad, really, that they came.

He’s hated hiding this. He’s missed seeing them; the twins take so much of the little time he has between moments, and he loves them, of course he does, but.

“What do you say,” Ares says, “we go hunting?”

**

“Of course,” Apollo says when Hermes asks him to teach Hypnos. “When will you learn you only have to ask?”

(It’s not theft, but it still feels like it.)

“Do you... want anything?”

Apollo snorts.

“Unfortunately, wishing you’d stop being an idiot hasn’t done me much good.”

“Hey!”

Apollo smiles, true, warm.

“No,” Apollo says. “I don’t.”

(Hermes still feels he owes Apollo, but he’s... mostly learned not to ask twice; to accept it. He hopes Thanatos and Hypnos never feel as awkward receiving affection as he does.)

**

“If Hypnos is getting lessons, I want lessons,” Thanatos says. It’s been a few weeks now, and Hypnos leaves to go see their uncle Apollo every few nights now, has been talking about everything he’s learning.

“That’s not how it works,” Pop says with a laugh. “Hypnos is getting help with his dreams.”

“Oh.”

“But if you want,” Pop says. “What do you want lessons on, anyway?”

Thanatos doesn’t actually want to learn anything. He wants to sleep a lot; he sort of has lessons with Mother and Granma, but not _lessons_. He doesn’t have to go anywhere, they’re just... they happen when they happen. When he asks, now.

He feels a little left behind. Hypnos will have to visit their uncle, Zagreus is younger than them and already has a weapon’s master, and Thanatos... doesn’t actually know what he wants to do. Or needs to do, not really.

Pop is looking at him though, waiting.

“I don’t know,” Thanatos admits, looking down at his hands. His face feels a little hot; he twists his hands together

“You know,” Pop says, “I think I know just the thing.”

**

“He’s just feeling left out,” Hermes says. “I think. You don’t have to take it too seriously.”

“Hermes,” Ares says. “When have I not taken a task seriously?”

“That’s true. What do you say?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

**

“Don’t mind the geese,” Ares tells his nephew.

Thanatos looks up at him.

“They’ll know if you’re afraid of them,” he advises. “It ends poorly.”

“Oh,” Thanatos says, then looks back at the geese slowly rambling along the riverbank.

They are walking the edge of a wood, ensuring it does not need cutting back, that the burn line from the prior year is not yet overgrown. Thanatos has taken to the task with a quiet intensity; he seems a very intense child from the little Ares has observed thus far.

“Are they very dangerous?” Thanatos asks.

“When they choose to be.”

Thanatos nods, clearly storing the knowledge away.

“Do they taste good?”

Ares laughs.

“Very,” he says.

**

Thanatos, as it turns out, is deeply interested in food, which is perhaps not so surprising considering his grandmother. Many of his questions about the woods turn towards what can be eaten and what cannot; equally often, his questions about the fields turn towards which vegetables and grains Ares likes best.

Ares, of course, likes wheat best, though it is a slow and fickle harvest at times, not unlike the ones he grows in the hearts of mortals. It is why he bothers to ensure the wood does not take over the fields.

Less surprisingly, Thanatos takes to the little deaths that ensure a good harvest with equal interest.

“Granma Maia never weeds her garden,” Thanatos says one afternoon, yawning wide. They are resting a moment beneath a tree.

“She uses many plants all grown mixed to avoid it,” Ares explains. “They choke out the weeds.”

“That’s smart.”

“She is very smart, yes.”

“But you can’t grow wheat that way. Or barley.”

“No.”

Thanatos hums, considering the field, legs stretched out before him.

“That’s a shame,” Thanatos says, because, as Ares has well learned by now, Thanatos is very, _very_ fond of harvesting.

**

Hypnos likes lessons with his uncle Apollo. They’re fun, and his uncle is _very_ funny. He learns all _kinds_ of things, most of which have very little to do with dreams. Like how to play the lyre and that comas aren’t _actually_ very helpful for most people, little bits of how to tell if someone needs rest, how to tell stories that are _even better_ than the ones he already tells.

“I’m going to be even more famous than Orpheus at this rate,” Hypnos tells him with a great deal of confidence, which makes Uncle Apollo smile. “Did you know Orpheus plays music in the Underworld? He visits the House sometimes!”

“I did,” Apollo tells him, because his uncle actually _maybe_ knows everything.

He sort of even learns something like _structure_ and maybe he shouldn’t just go telling people about his dreams that will happen, because prophecies are apparently very heavy? Hypnos doesn’t see what all the fuss is about, but he tries to remember that, too.

“How come you don’t teach Thanatos, too?” Hypnos asks.

“He is a touch too young, or so your father thinks.”

“Huh,” Hypnos says, which makes Apollo smile, too, though different from when Hypnos is being confident.

(Hypnos worried a little about Thanatos at first, but Thanatos has lessons with Uncle Ares now, about harvests? And wheat? And woods? It all sounds very boring and _very_ dirty to Hypnos, but it makes Thanatos very happy, so Hypnos is happy, too.)

 _Sometimes_ , Apollo even lets him help with boons for the sick, just a little, which is so _exciting_.

And best of all, Pop seems happy and _lots_ less tired. They don’t get to spend as much time with him since Pop doesn’t come to their lessons, but he always asks them what they’re learning.

Hypnos is very glad he dreamed his uncles visiting. Or prophesied it? Or something like that, he still doesn’t get it—Apollo says he might, when he’s older, but perhaps he might not; dreams are very impermanent, the most malleable of futures.

Malleable means it can be changed; Hypnos likes that word.

In any case, he’s glad they met.

**

One day, Thanatos gets back from lessons and immediately disappears into the kitchens.

“What’s he doing, do you think?” Zagreus asks.

“I don’t know,” Hypnos says, but he very much _wants_ to.

They both are sitting by the entrance to the lounge, because Thanatos immediately kicked them out. Normally, Zagreus can’t stand being still, but he can’t stand not being allowed in somewhere even _more_.

“Children,” Mother chides, “you are blocking the entrance.”

“Everyone _floats_ ,” Zagreus says with an eye roll, but they both get up and move over to the side to wait.

“What are you learning lately?” Hypnos asks, because he’s bored. Zagreus has lessons with Achilles, who is _really_ overrated, but kind of funny because he seems to think so, too. He visits from Elysium every week to teach Zagreus how to fight. Hypnos secretly thinks Hades only has Achilles doing it because Zagreus is _totally_ obsessed with him. He even has a _poster_ of him.

(His uncle Apollo agrees that Achilles is a bit overrated, and an object lesson in how _not_ to avoid a prophecy. He also apparently helped kill him when he went rabid, which Hypnos thinks was very nice of his uncle.

“He does make a good story though,” Apollo said, thoughtful.

“Yeah, but there’s _lots_ of other good stories that need telling, too,” Hypnos pointed out. “Like the war between the flying fish and bats over who gets to eat the insects or how if you hold your breath you can swim around and find chlams with pearls made up of people’s memories. People should be telling more stories about the little things, so they don’t get forgotten. No one’s going to forget Achilles.”

Apollo smiled at him, his best one, the one that makes Hypnos feel a little shy and a lot proud, like he’s managed to say something very, very clever without realizing it.)

“How to use a spear,” Zagreus tells him. “I’m awful at it, look at this bruise!”

Zagreus always gets really excited about his bruises. And scrapes. And cuts. Hypnos has no idea why, but it makes him happy, so Hypnos is happy, too.

They talk a little while longer until Hades makes Zagreus go brush Cerberus, leaving Hypnos alone. Hypnos waits, dozes off a while, wakes up, dozes, floating and comfortable and out of the way so no one can bother him.

**

“What do you think?” Thanatos asks, _very_ intensely.

Zagreus looks at Hypnos, then tries another bite.

It took _forever_ for Thanatos to come back, but now he has these little loaves of bread.

“It’s great,” Zagreus tells him, because it _is_. It’s a little sweet and it has nice herby flavours Zagreus doesn’t know, because he doesn’t know a lot about cooking.

“Yeah!” Hypnos agrees. “I don’t know why you acted like making bread was so secret though.”

“I grew it,” Thanatos informs them, just the tiniest little smile. “The wheat, I mean. With my uncle.”

Zagreus wishes, not for the first time, _he_ had uncles. And that he could go to the surface like Hypnos and Thanatos do. Father says he’s not allowed, and that he’s not missing very much not knowing his uncles.

(Father says his uncles made his mother very unhappy. His real mother, wherever she is.)

(He wishes he could see his real mother. Or ask more about her. But it makes Father sad to talk too much about her and Mother Nyx, too.)

“That’s really cool,” Zagreus tells Thanatos. “Can I have another?”

“Sure,” Thanatos says. “But only one more.”

“Wait, is it yours?”

“It’s fine,” Thanatos says. “I can make more later.”

“Just take it before he changes his mind,” Hypnos says. “Or I’ll eat it!”

“It’s for Zagreus.”

“If he doesn’t—”

“I do want it! Thanks, Than.”

(They’re not _really_ his brothers; he can tell. Like he can tell Father is his father, that Hermes shares his blood, that Mother Nyx doesn’t have _any_ of his blood. They’d feel like _half_ if they were his real half-brothers, but they don’t. But it’s okay—they _are_ his brothers if Zagreus decides they are.

That’s what Father said anyway, when Zagreus asked if this meant Hypnos and Thanatos weren’t his brothers anymore.

He hasn’t told Thanatos or Hypnos any of that, though. Father says it’s sort of a secret, his mom not being Mother Nyx. Zagreus is... not very good with secrets, but he’s trying to be this time, because Father trusted him with it.)

“Are you okay?” Hypnos asks, poking him in the side.

“Yeah! Hey, do you want to go see if Charon’s at his shop?”

“Sure,” Thanatos says.

“That sounds fun,” Hypnos says.

“Let me go ask Father,” Zagreus says, and takes off running.

Father is at his desk, like always, working, like almost always. He looks up when Zagreus skids around the corner and Zagreus catches himself and walks the last bit.

“Can we go visit Charon’s shop?”

“Did you clean your room?”

Zagreus thinks about clothes half spilling out of his trunk, books that are _mostly_ on the shelves, and how all the pieces of his board game are _on_ the board this time.

“Yes.”

“Be back before breakfast or supper,” Father says.

“Thank you, Father,” and then, “Oh, here, try this! Thanatos made bread.”

“Did he,” Father says, but he takes the bread. Father always likes to pretend he’s a lot more annoyed than he is. “Go on, I’ve work to do.”

They’re only a _little_ late getting home, and _apparently_ mostly on the shelves is not actually _on_ the shelves enough; he ends up grounded for a whole _week_.

“Sorry, Zag,” Thanatos says.

“It’s okay,” Zagreus tells him, because it is.

“I know,” Hypnos says, “we can make up new stories! Don’t have to leave at all for that.”

Zagreus grins at them, because even though he’s grounded—a _week_ , it was just some books. And maybe some clothes, and look _maybe_ his room wasn’t as clean as he thought—he’s going to get to spend it with them, his brothers who’ve always looked out for him, and really, that’s enough, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't beat me up i love achilles, i just feel like hypnos does NOT also i made [a public hades twitter if you wanna hang out](https://twitter.com/felinefelix1)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Persephone thinks about going back. She liked her life under the earth. She misses pomegranates. She wonders how Cerberus is doing.
> 
> (She wonders how Hades does, how Nyx does. The twins would be thirteen now, or fourteen? She wonders how they are. If Hypnos ever stopped tipping over in excitement, if Thanatos got a grasp on words.)
> 
> But it’s nice here. Quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 more to go :> hope you enjoy!!!

It is nice, the cottage. The sun rises here, but it is never too harsh. The seasons are never too cold, there are always birds to sing. The river flows clear and cool and the sky, more often than not, is clear. The soil is good, and the plants grow easy.

Plants have always grown easy at her touch, but that doesn’t mean she does not appreciate they grow easy all the same.

(It has been nearly a decade. She thought she wouldn’t notice the time, but she does. It is so difficult to forget, with stars overhead reminding her who and what she left behind.)

Sometimes, Persephone thinks about going back. She liked her life under the earth. She misses pomegranates. She wonders how Cerberus is doing.

(She wonders how Hades does, how Nyx does. The twins would be thirteen now, or fourteen? She wonders how they are. If Hypnos ever stopped tipping over in excitement, if Thanatos got a grasp on words.)

But it’s nice here. Quiet.

**

Sometimes, Hermes stops by. He’s always good for a few laughs, always a bright bit of humour to pass an hour or two before he leaves. He doesn’t mention the family—hers or his. He doesn’t mention Olympus.

(That’s not true. He did mention her mother once.

“You know,” he said, tipping back in the garden chair far enough she was quite sure he was going to fall in just a moment, “I imagine Demeter, she’d just be relieved to see you. Nothing a bit of food couldn’t fix, if you wanted to go home. You know, actual home.”

“This is home,” Persephone said, and he moved the conversation on, as quick as he always was, talking of a traveler that asked his aid and yet still somehow ended up going the wrong way _with_ directions.)

Hermes tells her of travelers, of birds, of stories from mortal markets she is _almost_ sure aren’t true, but just might be because Hermes is always careful to make sure his truths are more unbelievable than his lies.

He does not speak of the dead, and for that, Persephone is grateful. Much more than she is he does not speak of family.

(She wants to ask, sometimes, how they are. Hades, Nyx. Sometimes, she feels guilty she left the ruin for them to pick up, but she is—

it is nice here. Quiet.)

**

Sometimes, goats try to eat the plants, so when she hears noise in the garden, she opens the door to scare them off. She feeds them, yes, but they should know better by now than to eat the ones still in the ground.

She blames Hermes. They tend to show up most often not long after he’s visited.

Persephone’s expecting a goat, not a god.

A young god, a godling, awkward limbs and silver hair and wide gold eyes dressed in blacks and blues, wings that shimmer starlight.

“...Thanatos?” she asks, very carefully, but it must be. It looks just like them, with a few more years on them.

“I. Sorry,” Thanatos says, and vanishes, black void and aurora green light.

**

“Thanatos was here,” Persephone says the next time Hermes stops in, which, well, okay, that’s _not_ his fault, or if it is only _maybe_ , he did _not_ tell Thanatos to go poking around the entrance of the Underworld. Thanatos just _asked_ about why they never really walked the rest of the path out, why Nyx has so much darkness gathered there, and Hermes doesn’t _lie_ to his kids.

(Minus the one about their half brother, the one he never agreed with even if he _does_ think brothers are neat.)

“Was he?” Hermes asks. “How about that.”

Persephone does not look very impressed.

“He probably just got a little mixed up trying to get home, he’s been out. Lessons, both the boys—they went with boys, by the way—coming into themselves, you know that age, you remember it? Maybe, I heard you grew slow,” Hermes says, and some of that’s a lie because look.

Persephone’s a grown adult, she should know better than to trust everything that comes out of his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Hermes adds, “he won’t mention it to Zagreus.”

“To who?” Persephone says, and oh, _darn_. Woops. How could he.

Hermes grins.

“No one important. I’ll talk to Thanatos, don’t you worry.”

Persephone does not look reassured because she is actually pretty smart. It’s what makes stopping in to say hi to her much less a chore than he expected.

(There’s all kinds of estrangements these days, and really, shouldn’t _every_ son get to grow up with their mother? Zagreus’ tenth birthday is coming up, two digits! He needs something nice, and Hermes doesn’t know anything nicer.)

**

“Hypnos,” Thanatos whispers, which is really not like him at all. He’s been acting _weird_ for the last week. Weirder than usual.

“Yes?” Hypnos says at normal volume because they’re the only people in their room, he has _no idea_ why Thanatos is whispering.

It’s dark even, and the House minus Zagreus is asleep. Hypnos can tell—their little brother is _loud_ when he’s awake, loud enough sometimes Hypnos just wants to tap him on the forehead and knock him out.

(He doesn’t because Zagreus is an even _louder_ dreamer. No thanks. Besides, Pop says he should save that for an _emergency_ because it’s not very nice.)

“Zagreus isn’t our actual brother, is he?”

“He’s our half brother.”

“No, I mean.”

Hypnos sighs, pushes his sleep mask off, and rolls over. He’s confronted by the soft glow of Thanatos’ wings in the dark. His twin is laying on his stomach, clutching a pillow, and he is staring ahead and frowning that very serious way that suggests no, he _really_ thinks whatever it is he’s being _weird_ about is true.

It’s always bad news when Thanatos thinks something is _true_. Mostly because he’s usually right.

“What do you mean?” Hypnos asks, though he’s going to regret it.

“What happened to the queen?”

Hypnos blinks. He hasn’t thought about her in… ages. He’d kind of forgotten, actually, because he forgets most things and Thanatos remembers everything, which is why Hypnos likes to make lists. Uncle Apollo even taught him how to make a list of things he needs to _do_ recently, which has been _revelatory_. There's not much on it usually, but _still._

“I don’t know,” Hypnos says.

“She was here though? We met her.”

“Probably, you remember people better than me. What’s—” Hypnos stops to yawn. “What’s that got to do with Zagreus?”

“I think she’s his mother,” Thanatos says in the tone of voice that _most_ people would say ‘I prefer apples.’

“Oh, all right. I'm going back to sleep.”

Hypnos pulls his sleeping mask back over his eyes, pulls his blanket up around his shoulders. He settles. He thinks about the queen. He can remember yellow hair and laughter. A smile. She used to dream all the time about—

“Wait, _what_?” Hypnos asks, sitting up and tearing his sleeping mask off.

“Be quiet!” Thanatos hisses.

“Persephone’s baby _died_ , remember? You cried for like a week. We went to _Granma's_.”

“And then we came back and Lord Hades had a son suddenly. With Mother? But the queen was pregnant nine months, or ten, I don't think Mother had a baby in three months."

"That's. Thanatos, you know I hate math."

"Remember how Zagreus asked if Mother is… you know. His real mother? I think he thinks something isn’t right and he _w_ ould know, Pop said—”

“That’s—that’s… _that’s absurd_.” Hypnos throws a pillow at Thanatos. “Stop being weird and go to _sleep_ or I’ll make you.”

“I’m right,” Thanatos says, very serious, blocking the pillow with his wing, the _cheater_. With his stupid big wings. “I saw her. Yesterday. Her eyes are the same as Zagreus' green one."

“You—” Hypnos groans, flops back on the bed. He puts his wings over his face because he has no idea where his sleeping mask has ended up.

He loves his twin. He really, really does. He knows this is going to _bother_ Thanatos if they don’t _do_ anything. Worse, what if he’s _right_ and Zagreus really _is_ the queen’s son? Zagreus doesn’t know! Or he sort of knows, but he doesn't know _his_ mother. It’d be like not knowing Mother, which would be awful.

If it's true.

(Maybe it's true, Zagreus isn't _like_ Mother at _all._ Even _Charon_ has a little starlight, but Zagreus is just… darkness and heat and green.)

Zagreus _has_ been asking weird questions about blood and family and things this year. And he _does_ have a lot of dreams about a lady with green eyes like his, and...

“Maybe she didn’t want him,” Hypnos says but he knows that’s not true at all. The queen’s was the first dream he ever really _saw_. She wanted a child very badly, and then her child died. He remembers that, because that was the first death Thanatos ever _felt_.

"Maybe she doesn't know," Thanatos says.

Hypnos can't decide if that's worse or better than her maybe not wanting Zagreus.

He tucks his wings back and stares at the ceiling.

"What should we do?" Hypnos asks.

"I don't know," Thanatos says.

"I'll sleep on it," Hypnos says with a sigh. "Just stop glowing so much."

**

Sleeping on it doesn't mean _sleep_.

Finding a specific person when they're dreaming is tricky. It helps if Hypnos knows them, _obviously_ , but there's other things that help too, like being a god or just dreaming very loud or having lots of nightmares because _most_ people don't have lots of nightmares.

Hypnos goes to sleep trying to remember what he can about the queen. Her laughter, her hair, the color of her dreams, her dream that shattered, because even dreams that break rarely disappear. He goes to sleep and he wakes up still thinking of all those things in the cave where the Lethe starts. Wakes up but not _wakes_ —his body is still back home, in bed.

Mother can't notice when he's out like this, but Pop can. It's a trickster thing, not a night thing. Hypnos and Thanatos have gotten pretty good at figuring out which are which, these days. Pop will be busy though, so Hypnos _should_ be fine to look without getting caught.

The queen's dream was very green and full of light. It smelled like a flower, an herb? Purple, maybe. Hypnos pulls a list of Granma's plants from the air as he drifts out of the cave, half sorting through the god bright dreams already on going, the subconscious divine thoughts of those awake. The queen was a god, he's almost certain of that, which at least reduces the pool. Was she from Olympus? Maybe.

Right, lavender, purple and kind of peppery tasting in tea. Hades likes it much more than cookies. He dreams about it quite a lot, mostly dried. Probably because it reminds him of the queen.

Hypnos lets the list vanish back into mist and yawns again. He lets himself drift to the surface, because the queen isn't in the Underworld or Thanatos would have said. Probably. He perches on the gate at the boundary because it's warm and he likes how it tingles, being all thought and dream and sitting between two realms, and he brushes past the nymph dreams—nereids and oceanids and meliads and limnades and oreads and all the rest. They're gods, too, but Granma is one of the oldest oceanids and the queen didn't feel like _her_. The queen's dream was green and spring and bright, _fixed_ the way Olympians dream—like who they are is all they are. It's still tricky because it's hard to tell, really, whose subconscious landscapes are left from the outside, so he has to start slipping inside of heads.

He's looking for _green_ and _spring_ , ends up in one dream for a few moments before he realizes it's the wrong kind of spring, the late spring, a war time spring—lavender definitely wouldn't grow _here_ —and he'd really rather not have Uncle Ares tell Pop that Hypnos is snooping through god minds.

At least sleep time passes the way Hypnos wants, and not like _real_ time. He spools sleeping out longer, stretches each second to be a dozen heartbeats, and keeps looking. Hera and Aphrodite—he likes both their minds—and Artemis and Dionysus and Callisto and Psyche—he likes her, too—and Hestia and Athena, but none of them are really right. Demeter _almost_ feels right but she's not _spring_. None are green and lavender homes, none have dreams of motherhood shattered and buried deep. None of them _smell_ right.

Hypnos sighs and opens his eyes at the border. Maybe the queen is hiding? He hasn't ever had anyone _hide_ before, dreams are what he _does_ , but not really what he _is_.

He promised Thanatos to sleep on it though, so he debates a moment, then goes to visit Granma's mind at the bottom of the end of the world.

Granma _knows_ dreams, and not like Hypnos. It's like she learned it but also _is_ it, like she's the deepest darks of the ocean that Hypnos still hasn't seen in person, the well all dreams come from.

"Hi, Granma," he says, and her mind, always so dark and still, takes shape, invites him in, and they're sitting together at the low table where they've eaten at _least_ a hundred meals. Granma is very big in life, but in sleep she's even more vast and her eyes glow soft like the strange creatures that live at the bottom of the sea. She’s a very old oceanid, maybe the oldest still alive, and _her_ mother is so old everyone has forgot her.

But she's Granma, and there's nowhere more safe, not even Pop or Mother's arms.

"I need help," he tells her. He takes a fig from the bowl, watches it change shape a while before it decides to really be a frog. He lets it go—he doesn't really want to eat a frog—and it swims through the air. "I'm trying to find someone, but I can't. The queen. Do you know where she is?"

"Yes," Granma says. She catches the frog, turns it back into a fig. She quarters it with a whale bone knife and hands back four pieces of fig, the meat inside gleaming gem like. “Your mother is hiding her.”

“Mother knows where she is? Why would she hide her? Why hasn’t she told her about Zagreus? _Is_ Zagreus her son? Or is he really our half brother?”

“Family isn’t only blood,” Granma says. “Do you think he is your brother?”

“Yes,” Hypnos says. Zagreus is annoying and loud and thinks Asterius is horrible because Asterius called him short that one time, but he’s also fun and funny and knows the best tricks to bother Hades without getting in _real_ trouble.

“Then he is your brother.”

Hypnos thinks about that as he eats the fig. It tastes like memories and saltwater and sour sapphires and, just a tiny bit, of frog.

“What about Mother?”

“Kindness takes many forms,” Granma says.

There are _things_ swimming in the dark at the edges of her mind. Hypnos ignores them and tries to see how _not_ telling someone about their child is kind, when that someone wanted a child more than anything.

He can’t.

Maybe it’s an adult thing. Adults are _stupid_. Maybe even _Mother_ is stupid.

Granma is smiling, just a little, her teeth white and sharp and _many_. It’s like Pop’s smile, when he’s about to _cause problems_. Hypnos loves when Pop causes problems. It’s fun. He’s never seen Granma smile like this—he bets it’s going to be _just_ as fun.

“Why don’t you tell the queen then?” Granma says, still smiling.

“Maybe I will,” Hypnos says. “I will! But I need help finding her, especially if Mother’s hiding her.”

“Don’t worry,” Granma says, “I’ll help.”

**

It’s wonderful, making a dream with Granma. It’s so easy—she grabs onto the things he stumbles with, makes them _real_ , and together they make a _beautiful_ dream, everything Hypnos can remember of Zagreus growing up but more like what a _mother_ would dream because Granma is a mother and knows what that should be. Because really, the queen should get to know about her son. Maybe it will make her come back? Surely it will.

Or maybe she’ll think it just a very bad dream, the kind that are so good that waking hurts.

(Or maybe she really _didn’t_ want Zagreus at all.)

“Maybe I should get Thanatos to take Zagreus to see her, after you give her the dream,” Hypnos says, worried. He doesn’t want the dream to _hurt_.

“You should,” Granma says. “Tell your twin I said to.”

“I will,” Hypnos promises. “Thank you, Granma.”

“Of course,” Granma says, and she folds him in a hug that’s all pressure and depth and _everything_ , but is also the safest place anywhere. “That’s what family is for.”

Hypnos wakes up again, this time in his bed. The House is still sleeping minus Zagreus. He yawns and sits up and stretches and scratches at one of his wings because it itches just a little.

The House is still sleeping and time is weird when people sleep. Hypnos can sometimes stretch it out like this.

“Thanatos?”

“Mm?” Thanatos is still awake, at least. He’s horrible to try to wake.

“We should take Zagreus to the queen. Granma said.”

“Oh,” Thanatos says, then he sits up, wings stretching and going void black as they do before the star glimmer glow comes back when they relax. Him and his stupid big wings. “Okay. Now?”

“Yes,” Hypnos says.

**

Hermes isn’t necessarily _expecting_ the summons, but he also isn’t _not_ expecting a summons.

“Boss,” Hermes calls, grinning bright, “what can I do for you?”

The House really _is_ quite the flurry of activity, and _well_ before shift starts too. How about that. Who could have ever foreseen this. Hopefully they don't forget to make the cake in all the fuss.

“Hermes,” Hades says and _wow_ , Hermes actually forgot how intense Hades can be. It’s been a while.

(It’s fine; Hades might have pressure but really, he’s got _nothing_ on Ma or Apollo.)

“Where,” Hades asks, grabbing the front of Hermes’ chiton before he thinks to step back, “is my _son?”_


	9. Chapter 9

Persephone wakes.

(A baby, one eye green and other red, feet that flicker and don’t go out. A smile, bright as the sun.)

She sits up. She sits on the edge of her bed and she breathes around

(a toddler stumbling, chasing after Cerberus, ash flicking after each step, laughter as Hades grabs him, tosses him up)

She breathes.

(“Zagreus, don’t pull my wings!”)

It hurts.

She stares at the floor and she breathes and tries to—

There’s noise in the garden.

Goats, probably goats.

They’ll eat the plants.

She gets up

(“I’m not _short_!” he cries, trying to stand taller on his toes, but he _is_ short)

and goes to the door. Opens it.

The twins, both older, thirteen, fourteen, she doesn’t know, and Thanatos, it must be, holding a boy and panicking and Hypnos, laughing nervous—

“She’s going to kill us,” Thanatos says.

“You _killed_ Megaera!” Zagreus yells.

“I didn’t kill her! Just a nap! Oh, hi! Your highness!” Hypnos says, noticing the queen, and he grins wide. “I hope you got the dream!”

—and Persephone freezes.

She can’t _breathe_.

“I’m sorry,” Thanatos says. “I can’t put him down. He’s not like Hypnos and I.”

A boy, one eye green, feet flickering flame.

“How?” she whispers.

“Mother probably did something, you should come back and ask her!” Hypnos says, like it’s that easy. As if there is not…

(“I imagine Demeter, she’d just be relieved to see you. Nothing a bit of food couldn’t fix, if you wanted to go home.”)

“...Mother?” the boy says, voice wavering.

"This is a very mean trick," Persephone says.

**

"I don't know why everyone always thinks I kidnap children," Hermes complains.

"Nnngh," Charon groans, pushing the boat up river. They need a little more time, the boys—they crossed by not so long ago.

"Cattle are _not_ children, I don't care how much Apollo spoils them," Hermes says. "And that was _once_."

"Rrraaaooogghhh," Charon says, sympathetically.

"I'm glad _someone_ has faith I'm doing the right thing,* Hermes says. "Here I am just trying to be _nice_."

"Mrrgh," Charon says, doubtfully.

Hermes laughs, bright and ringing over the Styx.

"Being _nice_ doesn't have to be _selfless_ , Charon, come on now. You know _that_."

Charon chuckles.

"Anyway, the sooner she's home the less I have to deal with making the House work. Still think Nyx won't just let them live with Ma and they just come visit?"

That _is_ more in keeping with Hermes. He'd been worried fatherhood had made him a little _too_ generous.

It's nice to know otherwise.

"Ngh."

"Didn't think so," Hermes says. "Think Zagreus is old enough for this? Ten, you know, two digits. Why, by ten, _I_ had—"

Charon listens as Hermes rambles, words spilling like water, and ferries them to the little garden on the surface. It is a selfish thing, Hermes fixing the House, but it is why, at the end of everything, Charon likes him so much. He’s very efficient when he decides he wants something, unlike everyone else down here.

He hates to imagine how long getting the queen back would have taken if Hermes _didn’t_ have a vested interest in it.

**

"Put me down," Zagreus says.

"I told you, I don't know if I can—"

(“If your brothers _happen_ to ask if you want to go to find the queen,” Hermes says, crouched and grinning that grin that promises _trouble_ , the best kind, the kind that’s the most exciting, “you should tell them yes. Very important lady, you’ll like her.”)

“I’ll hold your hand,” Zagreus interrupts.

Thanatos looks worried, but he puts Zagreus down. Zagreus takes his hand, because as soon as his feet touch the surface he feels… _tired_ , just like Hermes said he would. Holding Thanatos' hand helps.

"This isn't a trick, really! At least, _Thanatos_ doesn’t think so, and that should mean a lot!" Hypnos is explaining to the queen, his maybe mother, the woman with eyes the same color as his odd one.

(The one he's dreamed of since he was seven. He can _feel_ it, the way Mother Nyx feels like… _not_ Father, not Hermes, not even his brothers who maybe aren't his brothers. _They_ all feel like the Styx, a little, but Nyx is just… like Dusa or Megaera or Charon. Not blood, but close.)

“Didn’t you get the dream?” Hypnos asks, desperate.

The woman—Mother, she _must_ be, Zagreus knows it. Her eyes are green and when he tilts his head and looks through his normal eye, his eye like Father’s, she is all the vine and green like his odd eye looks in the mirror.

Mother looks _very_ unhappy at whatever dream it is Hypnos is talking about, and this isn’t going at all like they talked about, but then they didn’t expect Thanatos maybe not being able to blink _all of them_ the whole way or Thanatos having to talk the Lernean Hydra into letting them past or meeting Megaera or _any of that_ , but what Zagreus _does_ know is that she’s his mother, the one that Father gets sad about and doesn’t like to talk about.

(“She would be proud of you, I hope.” “Why doesn’t she come back?” Zagreus asks and Father just sighs. Sad.)

Zagreus lets go of Thanatos’ hand and blinks forward. He can’t go as far as Thanatos—only a spear-length—but she’s not very far away and even though he knows he’ll die, Thanatos _told_ him, he also knows what he has to do because it’s not _words_ , what he feels and sees and _is_.

He hugs her. It feels like hugging Father—it rings so _true_ , in all of him, and he buries his face against her waist and he hugs and he tries very hard not to feel so tired and the edges of his vision are a little bit black and Hypnos and Thanatos are both fussing, worried.

He peeks up at her.

She’s crying, the queen. His mother.

“Oh,” she says, and very gently, she runs a hand through his hair, other touching his cheek. “You’re… this isn’t a trick.”

(“It is complicated,” Father says. “Her mother does not know she is here.”)

“You have to come home,” Zagreus says, because, like Hypnos always tells him, adults are stupid. It’s important to be _explicit_.

It doesn’t _matter_ if it’s complicated. They’ll just find _her_ mother and explain it, it will be fine.

“Father misses you,” he says. “And Mother Nyx.”

“I can’t,” she says, because she’s an adult and stupid.

It’s very hard to see. He blinks, which helps a little, but he’s also kind of cold.

“It’s my birthday,” Zagreus tells her. His tenth, which Hypnos says matters, because it’s _two_ digits. He remembers they went to the Stadium for Hypnos and Thanatos’ tenth birthday because Hypnos wanted to meet Asterius more than anything.

(Zagreus wants the lady he’s been dreaming of since he was seven to come _home_. He wants Father not to be sad. He wants Mother Nyx to not have grief at the edges of her stars. It’s not right, not being together.)

“Zagreus,” Thanatos says, tugging his elbow, and his vision clears just a little. “I’m sorry, he’s not like us and I’m not very good at this, I haven’t tried to keep someone from _not_ dying before.”

Zagreus lets go, clings to Thanatos’ hand. She’s crying and looks so _torn_ , but that’s okay. Adults are stupid, he just has to convince her it’s really okay.

“We’re family,” he says weakly. He still doesn’t feel very good, and he doesn’t protest when Thanatos picks him up, just rest his head on his brother’s shoulder. His feet are kind of cold.

“That’s the most important thing,” Hypnos adds. “Our Pop always says, and we can figure the rest out later! If there’s a problem. Mother misses you and Lord Hades dreams about you all the time and—”

“Cerberus,” Thanatos adds.

“—right, Cerberus! And Charon and Megaera, _everyone_ misses you, and it’s Zagreus' _birthday_ , you have to come! At least for cake!”

“I wouldn’t want to not have Mother,” Thanatos says.

“You wanted to _be_ a mother more than anything in the whole wide everything,” Hypnos says. “I remember, it was the first dream I ever saw, surely you still want to?”

“Enough,” Mother says, the queen says. She rubs her face, tries to rub away tears. Reaches a hand out to touch his face again. “Zagreus? Is that right?”

He nods.

“Zagreus,” she says again.

He doesn’t really know her, but he knows this is right. And he _wants_ to know her.

“All right,” she says. “All right, I’ll… just for cake. And then we’ll see.”

He smiles at her, as much as he can, but he feels really very tired. More tired than he’s ever felt.

“Let me call Charon,” she says.

“I think,” Hypnos says, “Pop’s a bit ahead of you there.”

Zagreus opens his eyes, looks over and there’s Charon with his boat and Hermes. He thinks it’s Hermes. No one _else_ wears boots with wings, and one leg is hanging over the edge, foot kicking just above the water.

Charon waves.

“ _Hermes_ ,” Mother says, and she sounds just a little mad.

Hermes sits up, grins, and waves, too. Zagreus waves back. Hermes _always_ has the best trouble.

“Fancy meeting you all here,” Hermes says. “Need a lift?”

**

“Did you plan this?” Hades asks, hearing the noise of the children and Hermes and, somehow, Persephone—the sound carries over the water.

“Not precisely,” Nyx says, which is not a _no_.

Hades considers that a long while, listening as they get closer, leaning on the balcony.

“We had very good luck this time,” Nyx says. “Hermes has a way of speeding things along.”

Hades is not very fond of Fate. He is not fond of what is written in the stars. He is not, above all, fond of what Nyx knows when she decides to share a bit, but—

Zagreus runs in first, sparks chasing his feet, his crown, smile blinding and bright and _warm_ , everything that Hades has tried so desperately hard not to snuff out despite how difficult it is.

“ _Father_ ,” Zagreus yells. “I found Mother! She came back! For cake and maybe for longer, Hypnos and Thanatos found her and they took me and—”

Hades catches his son as Zagreus leaps for him, that hug that warms blood and reminds Hades every time of the first time he ever held his son.

His brilliant son.

Hades looks up and there she is. Persephone. Green and spring. She looks torn between fury and worry; Hades cannot say he particularly blames her.

(Maybe he should have told her sooner, but— Well. He will have to deal with the consequences of how he chose to protect her. How he thought he could protect her. The consequences with her mother.)

“Persephone,” he says, each syllable careful, lighter.

“You all can be maudlin later,” Hermes says, brushing by. “It’s Zagreus’ birthday.” He grins, grabbing hold of Zagreus and pulling him along, the twins following and looking, well. Hypnos looks entirely pleased with himself and the spitting image of his father, but Thanatos at least looks slightly guilty.

“Welcome home,” Nyx says.

Persephone stares at them both, worried and angry, then she sighs and she smiles, that little bit of sun that Hades has missed so terribly much while she has been gone.

“Let’s see this birthday party,” Persephone says.

Hades lets out a sigh, smiles, just a little. Just for her.

(He hopes she is not too disappointed in Zagreus. The boy doesn’t deserve to suffer for his father’s choices.)

“I am still angry with you both,” she adds as she leads he and Nyx to the lounge.

The lounge is a riot of noise—Cerberus taking up the corner closest to the table where they will sit, Hermes directing festivities to the chef which will _not_ end well, Thanatos sitting and looking like he’s going to drift off in just a moment, Hypnos demanding _space_ because the cake this year is absurd. Megaera and Dusa are both there, in a corner, likely hoping for a disaster—at least Megaera, judging by her expression—that can be blamed on Hermes.

“Everyone,” Zagreus declares, seeing them enter, “meet my mother!”

The room goes silent.

“Yes, yes,” Hermes says in the quiet, “that’s great and all, but you all know her? What’s so special about the queen coming back? It’s _Zagreus_ ’ birthday. Is Jason here yet? I’m going to speak with Charon, don’t drop that cake. Hypnos, you’re in charge, Thanatos, don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Jason? _Jason of the Argonauts_?” Zagreus gasps, nearly dropping his drink and eyes going wide, but it’s enough to break the tension and chatter to start back up.

“Sure thing, Pop!” Hypnos says bright, then grins at Hades and Persephone and Nyx. “Where’s your invitations?”

“Invitations?” Nyx asks.

“I didn’t do invitations this year,” Thanatos says. “I forgot.”

“ _What_?” Hypnos asks. “You _always_ do invitations. You _never_ forget _anything_.”

“I _forgot_ ,” Thanatos says again, frowning.

“Children,” Nyx says.

“It’s very… it’s a lot livelier than I expected,” Persephone says, quietly.

“Blame my nephew,” Hades says. “Zagreus, sit still a moment.”

They sit, all of them, long enough for Zagreus to scarf down a piece of cake. It’s horrible, unprincely, but Persephone smiles as she watches her son, the one that Hades dared hope she might get to have one day, and doesn’t scold.

At least not about the cake.

“You are not meant to get yourself a birthday present,” Hades tells him.

“I didn’t,” Zagreus says.

“And what would you call bringing your mother home?”

“The right thing,” Zagreus says, looking away and up at Persephone. “Isn’t it? Don’t you like it here?”

“Yes,” Persephone says. “Quite a lot.”

“Hmm,” Hades says, but he smiles, just a bit, and Zagreus relaxes, grinning up at him. “Well then, for your birthday, you will not be grounded for running off the in the middle of the morning… or night, or whatever time it was.”

“Mornight,” Thanatos says; Hades ignores him. He’s _not_ going to say such a ridiculous word.

“ _Yes_ ,” Zagreus yells. “I knew it!”

Hades sighs, but he’s still smiling and, when he happens to look to Persephone, so is she.

“You’re not so bad at that,” she says. “I hope I manage half so well.”

“You will be twice as good,” Hades says; he’s very certain he’s right. Being a parent is difficult—it often drives him half-mad—but it is what Persephone always wished to be, and her touch has always been gentler than his.

“Did you not tell me to give yourself a headstart?” Persephone jokes and he knows, even though there will be well-deserved words later, things will be, ultimately, all right. They will figure it out, together.

“Perhaps,” Hades says. “You should ask Nyx.”

**Epilogue  
** “Well, Mother was more reasonable than I expected,” Persephone says with a sigh as she sits down in her garden. “Though I suppose _some_ of us expected it.”

Nyx smiles and settles on the ground by Persephone. It has been a long time since she last indulged in touching the earth—it is warmer than she recalls, a bit harder.

“I cannot hope to guess what you imply,” Nyx tells her; it makes Persephone chuckle, makes her smile grow wider. There are more lines than there were when she smiles—it suits her, even if the cost of them was quite high.

“Nyx, really now, you don’t need to play coy with me,” Persephone says.

Nyx places a hand on the ground, the grass soft against her palm.

“I am never coy, my lady queen,” Nyx says, turning her face aside, casting her eyes down and away. Suppresses a smile as Persephone’s hand brushes hers on the ground, fingers touching only just.

Persephone is still so warm.

“At _least_ tell me you didn’t only have the twins for this?” Persephone asks, leaning closer.

“No,” Nyx says, truthful; she looks up to meet Persephone’s eyes.

It is true. This was not the only reason; it was only one of many.

It was, however, a very compelling one. Persephone did always want to be a mother, and Zagreus is yet a child this way. It was very lucky, Hermes being the sire, Hermes choosing to be a father. It is so rare that stars align so nicely.

“Good,” Persephone says.

Her kiss still tastes of lavender and spring, her lips still a little dry. Still makes Nyx sigh and understand, just a little, what flowers must feel when they bloom.

There’s a scuff of boot, and they part. Hermes is grinning by the entry.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he says.

“No,” Nyx says, because the trick to Hermes, of course, is to not give him reason to think there is anything to steal—gossip or coin or otherwise.

“The boys want an extra month at Ma’s.”

“Of course,” Nyx says, knowing what he means is _he_ wants an extra month with _them_.

She owes Maia a debt yet—her dreams do not come cheaply, and she wove Zagreus very many dreams these last three years. Hermes' happiness will go towards that debt.

“Great. You two have fun,” and then he is gone.

“How much does he know?” Persephone asks.

“Enough,” Nyx says, then smiles. “I would say it seems we have an extra week, but—”

“ _Mother_!” Zagreus yells.

Persephone laughs.

They steal one last kiss, then Persephone rises.

Nyx stays in her garden, Persephone’s, the ground a little warm, a little hard, and listens to House, full of bounty and spring and life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, as they say, is that. This was a nice lil relief for me to write after a couple very intense fics, and i've been really happy that other people liked this weird little AU. I hope you enjoyed this little fix it detour, and if you enjoyed it, i'd love to hear what you liked!!!! <3 <3 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/felinefelix1)


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